4r 


/     / 


/ 


HALE'S  BIRTHPLACE. 


THE  TWO  SPIES 


NATHAN   HALE  AND   JOHN  ANDRE 


BY 


BENSON   J.   LOSSING,   LL.  D. 


ILLUSTRATED    WITH  PEN-AND-INK  SKETCHES  BY  H.  ROSA 


ANNA  SEWARD'S  MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE 


NEW    YORK: 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 
1903 


l-UU 


COPYRIGHT,  1886, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


FO  R  E  TALK. 


THIS  little  volume  contains  a  brief  account  of  the  most 
important  events  in  the  life-career  of  two  notable  spies  in 
our  War  for  Independence,  NATHAN  HALE  and  JOHN  ANDRE. 
They  were  both  young  men,  well  educated,  endowed  with 
genius  and  ability  for  conspicuous  achievements,  brave  and 
accomplished  soldiers,  pure  and  virtuous  in  private  char 
acter,  truthful,  manly,  refined  in  thoughts  and  manners,  hand 
some  in  person,  lovely  in  disposition,  and  beloved  by  all 
who  knew  them. 

Yet  they  were  spies ! 

"  Spies,"  says  Vattel,  "  are  generally  condemned  to  capi 
tal  punishment,  and  not  unjustly,  there  being  scarcely  any 
other  way  of  preventing  the  mischief  which  they  may  do. 
For  this  reason  a  man  of  honor,  who  would  not  expose 
himself  to  die  by  the  hand  of  a  common  executioner,  ever 
declines  serving  as  a  spy.  He  considers  it  beneath  him, 
as  it  can  seldom  be  done  without  some  kind  of  treachery." 

May  not  a  spy  be  a  man  of  lofty  honor,  and  act  under 
the  inspiration  of  disinterested  patriotism?  Stratagem,  an 
artifice  or  scheme  for  deceiving  an  enemy  in  war,  is  re 
garded  as  honorable,  but  is  it  not  seldom  exercised  "  with- 
out  some  kind  of  treachery  "  ? 

M62495 


iy  FORETALK. 

It  is  the  motive  which  gives  true  character  to  the  deed. 
When  the  motive  is  a  purely  mercenary  one,  the  deed  is 
dishonorable  ;  when  it  is  the  lofty  one  of  a  desire  to  serve 
one's  country  or  his  race,  unselfishly,  the  act  is  certainly 
honorable.  Nathan  Hale  truthfully  said,  "  Every  kind  of 
service  necessary  for  the  public  good  becomes  honorable 
by  being  necessary." 

The  motives  of  the  two  spies  were  expressed  by  them 
selves.  Hale  said  :  "  I  wish  to  be  useful.  If  the  exigencies 
of  my  country  demand  a  peculiar  service,  its  claims  to  the 
performance  of  that  service  are  imperious."  Andre  avowed 
that  in  the  enterprise  in  which  he  was  engaged  all  he  sought 
"  was  military  glory,  the  applause  of  his  king  and  country, 
and,  perhaps,  a  brigadiership." 

The  last  words  uttered  by  Andre  under  the  gibbet  indi 
cated  that  his  supreme  thought  at  that  moment  was  of  him 
self.  He  said  to  the  American  officers  present,  "  I  request 
you,  gentlemen,  that  you  will  bear  me  witness  to  the  world 
that  I  die  like  a  brave  man."  Hale's  last  words  upon  the 
ladder  indicated  that  his  supreme  thought  at  that  moment 
was  of  his  country.  He  said,  "  I  only  regret  that  I  have  but 
one  life  to  lose  for  my  country  ! " 

In  1856  a  "Life  of  Captain  Nathan  Hale,"  by  I.  W. 
Stuart,  was  published  at  Hartford,  in  a  small  volume  of  230 
pages.  In  1861  "  The  Life  and  Career  of  Major  John  An 
dre,"  by  Winthrop  Sargeant,  was  published  at  Boston  in  a 
small  octavo  volume  of  nearly  500  pages.  It  is  an  exhaust 
ive  work.  To  these  two  books  I  acknowledge  much  in 
debtedness. 

The  spirited  pen-and-ink  sketches  which  illustrate  this 
little  volume  were  largely  copied  from  original  drawings  by 
the  author;  also  from  other  original  drawings  and  auto- 


FORE  TALK.  V 

graphs.  The  two  pictures,  Cunningham  destroying  Hales 
Letters,  and  The  Tournament,  are  original  designs  by  the 
artist. 

This  volume  contains  the  full  text  of  Andre's  "  Cow- 
Chase,"  and  the  famous  "Monody  on  Major  Andre,"  by 
Miss  Anna  Seward,  with  a  portrait  and  a  brief  biographical 
sketch  of  the  author  ;  also  three  characteristic  letters  writ 
ten  by  Andre  to  Miss  Seward,  when  he  was  a  youth  of 
eighteen.  The  "  Monody,"  I  believe,  has  never  been  pub 
lished  in  America. 

B.  J.  L. 

THE  RIDGE,  April,  1886. 


CONTENTS. 


NATHAN    HALE. 
CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Kale's  Birthplace  and  Parentage.— The  Hale  Family       .  -3 

Hale's  Youthhood  and  Education 4 

Dr.  Munson's  Recollections  of  him 5 

Hale  at  Yale  College  and  as  a  School-teacher 7 

Patriotism  of ....  8,  9 

His  Military  Career  at  Boston  and  New  York 9~12 

CHAPTER   II. 

The  American  Army  at  New  York  .         .         .         .        .         .        •       12,  13 

A  Man  for  Secret  Service  sought l8 

Hale's  Idea  of  the  Service  ;  he  volunteers H 

His  Career  as  a  Spy 15-2° 

His  Arrest 

Taken  to  General  Howe's  Headquarters 19 

Sentenced  to  be  hanged  without  Trial.— Great  Fire  in  New  York   .         .     20 

CHAPTER   III. 

Hale  at  the  Place  of  Execution 2I 

Cruelly  treated  by  Cunningham,  the  Provost-Marshal      .         .         .         .22 

His  Last  Words 23 

Sympathy  expressed  ;  his  Execution 24 

Monumental  Memorials  of  Hale 25-27 

Literary  Contributions  to  his  Memory 27-31 

Tribute  to  Hale  by  Henry  J.  Raymond    .         .         .    .     .         .        •         •     31 

Proposed  Monument  in  Memory  of  Hale  at  New  York     .         .         .         .33 

Proposed  Epitaph •     34 


CONTENTS, 

JOHN  ANDRE:. 

CHAPTER    I. 

PAGE 

Andre's  Birth,  Parentage,  Education,  and  Family 37 

His  Acquaintance  with  Anna  Seward  and  her  Literary  Friends       .  38 

His  Betrothal  to  Honora  Sneyd        .  .40 

His  Correspondence  with  Miss  Seward 41 

Enters  the  Army .42 

Presaging  Omens     .         . 42>  43 

Andre  goes  to  America    ....  43 

Made  a  Prisoner •     44 

At  Philadelphia— his  Accomplishments  and  Captivating  Manners  .         .     45 
Lord  Howe  entertained    ......••••     45 

CHAPTER   II. 
The  Mischianza  described  by  Andre        .  ...       46-59 

CHAPTER   III. 

The  Mischianza  and  the  Character  of  General  Howe  criticised         .        59,  60 
The  British  fly  from  Philadelphia  toward  New  York,  General  Clinton  in 

Command.— Battle  of  Monmouth      .  •     60 

Expedition  to  Rhode  Island      . 
Andre"s  Genius  and  Social  Position 
His  Letter  to  Benedict  Arnold's  Wife 

Arnold's  Career  in  Philadelphia         .  63-  64 

His  Treasonable  Correspondence  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton  and  Andre     64,  65 
Andre  a  Spy  in  Charleston 
Arnold's  Premeditated  Treason.— Occasion  of  "The  Cow-Chase" 

CHAPTER   IV. 

"  The  Cow-Chase "  .        .        .        .  .        .     68 

CHAPTER   V. 
Gloomy  State  of  Public  Affairs.— Proposed  Personal  Meeting  between 

Arnold  and  Andre     .  ....  • 

Arrangements  for  such  a  Meeting    .         .         .  •        •  79»  8( 

Andre  at  a  Dinner-Party  .  8o'  8 

Goes  to  meet  General  Arnold  .         .        .        .        •         • 

The  Meeting 8l'  ~2 

They  go  to  Smith's  House 3 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAGE 

The  Terms  of  Treasonable  Service  agreed  upon. — Andre  compelled  to 

attempt  a  Return  to  New  York  by  Land  .  •  84 

Receives  Papers  from  Arnold.— His  Journey.— The  Neutral  Ground        .  85 

Andre  arrested 

Patriotism  of  his  Captors 

Their  Reward  .  89 

Andre  discovered  to  be  a  Spy 9° 

His  Confession 91 

His  Letter  to  Washington 9*~93 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Washington  returns  from  Hartford  at  a  Critical  Moment. — Arnold  re 
ceives  Notice  of  Andre's  Arrest 93 

Painful  Interview  with  his  Wife.— He  escapes  to  the  Vulture  .         .         .94 
Washington  at  Arnold's  Quarters.— Discovers  Arnold's  Treason.— His 

Calmness  and  Tenderness 9^ 

Andre  brought  to  Arnold's  Quarters  and  sent  to  General  Greene  at 

Tappaan   ......••••••  97 

His  Free  Conversation  with  Major  Tallmadge 9& 

Effects  of  the  News  of  his  Capture 99 

Tried  by  a  Board  of  Officers  and  condemned  as  a  Spy    ....  100 

Efforts  to  save  him IO1 

His  Choice  of  the  Mode  of  Death 102 

His  Execution 103-105 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Almost  Universal  Sympathy  felt  for  Andre 105,  1 06 

Honored  by  his  King IQ6 

A  Monument  to  his  Memory  in  Westminster  Abbey,  described       .    106-108 
Andre's  Remains  removed  to  the  Abbey          ......   108 

Memorials  to  mark  the  Place  of  his  Execution          ....    109-115 

Memorial-Stone  erected  by  Mr.  Field  at  Tappaan    .         .         .         .110-115 

Mr.  Field's  Generous  Proposition 110,114,118 

Attempts  to  destroy  the  Field  Memorial  at  Tappaan       .         .         .117,118 
An  Indignation  Meeting  at  Tappaan        .         .  •   JI9 
A  Monument  to  mark  the  Place  where  Andre  was  captured  at  Tarry- 
town          119-121 

BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  ANNA  SEWARD      ...  .125 

MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE 135 

ANDRE'S  LETTERS  TO  Miss  SEWARD i52 

INDEX  165 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

NATHAN  MALE'S  BIRTHPLACE Frontispiece 

FAC-SIMILE  OF  KALE'S  HANDWRITING 6 

UNION  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL-HOUSE  AT  NEW  LONDON 8 

THE  BEEKMAN  MANSION 18 

BEEKMAN'S  GREENHOUSE 19 

CUNNINGHAM  DESTROYING  HALE'S  LETTERS 22 

THE  HALE  MONUMENT  AT  COVENTRY 26 

PORTRAIT  OF  JOHN  ANDRE face  37 

PORTRAIT  OF  HONORA  SNEYD        .        .       » 39 

THE  MISCHIANZA  TICKET 47 

LADY'S  HEAD-DRESS 48 

THE  JOUST  AT  THE  TOURNAMENT 52 

FAC-SIMILE  OF  ARNOLD'S  DISGUISED  HANDWRITING 65 

FAC-SIMILE  OF  ANDRE'S  DISGUISED  HANDWRITING 65 

FAC-SIMILE  OF  THE  LAST  STANZA  OF  THE  COW-CHASE      .        •       .        .78 

THE  SMITH  HOUSE 82 

FAS-SIMILE  OF  ARNOLD'S  PASSPORT 87 

PORTRAIT  OF  JOHN  PAULDING 89 

THE  ROBINSON  HOUSE 95 

"  THE  '76  STONE  HOUSE  " 97 

WASHINGTON'S  HEADQUARTERS  AT  TAPPAAN        ......  100 

PASSAGE  FROM  THE  VULTURE 104 

ANDRE'S  MONUMENT  IN  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY 107 

BOWLDER-MONUMENT IO9 

DEAN  STANLEY'S  AUTOGRAPH 112 

MEMORIAL  AT  TAPPAAN 116 

MEMORIAL  AT  TARRYTOWN 120 

PORTRAIT  OF  ANNA  SEWARD  ...        ......  face  125 


NATHAN    HALE. 


NATHAN    HALE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IN  a  picturesque  region  of  Tolland  County,  Connecticut, 
twenty  miles  eastward  of  Hartford,  situated  upon  an  emi 
nence  which  commands  a  beautiful  and  extensive  prospect 
westward  toward  the  State  capital,  there  once  stood,  and 
perhaps  now  stands,  a  pleasant  farm-house,  built  of  wood, 
and  two  stories  in  height.*  In  that  house,  on  the  6th  of 
June,  1755,  a  child  was  born  whose  name  appears  con 
spicuous  in  our  national  history.  It  was  a  boy,  and  one 
of  twelve  children,  whose  father,  Richard  Hale,  had  emi 
grated  in  early  life  from  Newberry,  in  Massachusetts,  to 
Coventry,  and  there  married  Elizabeth  Strong,  a  charming 
maiden  eighteen  years  of  age.  He  was  a  descendant  of 
Robert  Hale,  or  Hales,  who  settled  in  Charlestown,  in  1632, 
and  who  seems  to  have  been  a  scion  of  the  Hales  of  Kent, 
for  he  bore  their  coat-of-arms — three  broad  arrows  feath 
ered  white,  on  a  red  field. 

Both  Richard  and  Elizabeth  Hale  were  of  the  strictest 
sect  of  the  Puritans  of  their  day.  They  revered  the  Bible 

*  See  the  frontispiece,  copied  from  a  drawing  by  J.  W.  Barber,  of  New  Haven, 
in  1840. 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


as  the,  voice  of  God;  reverenced  magistrates  and  gospel 
ministers  4s  -his  chosen  servants  ;  regarded  the  strict  observ- 
^n,ce';c>f;  the/Christian  Sabbath  as  a  binding  obligation,  and 
family  Worship1  and  grace  before  meals  as  imperative  duties 
and  precious  privileges. 

The  sixth  child  of  Richard  and  Elizabeth  Hale  they 
named  NATHAN.  He  was  feeble  in  body  at  the  beginning 
of  his  life,  and  gave  very  little  promise  of  surviving  the 
period  of  infancy;  but  tender  motherly  care  carried  him 
safely  over  the  critical  second  year,  and  he  became  a  robust 
child,  physically  and  mentally.  He  grew  up  a  lively,  sweet- 
tempered,  and  beautiful  youth  ;  and  these  qualities  marked 
his  young  manhood. 

Nathan  Hale,  the  distinguished  person  alluded  to,  bright 
and  active,  loved  out-of-door  pastimes,  and  communing  with 
Nature  everywhere.  He  was  conspicuous  among  his  com 
panions  for  remarkable  athletism.  He  would  spring,  with 
apparent  ease,  out  of  one  hogshead  into  another,  through  a 
series;  and  he  would  place  his  hand  upon  a  fence  as  high  as 
his  head,  and  spring  over  it  at  a  bound  with  apparently  little 

effort. 

Having  an  intense  thirst  for  knowledge,  young  Hale  was 
very  studious.  His  father  designed  him  for  the  Christian 
ministry,  and  he  was  fitted  for  college  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Huntington,  one  of  the  most  eminent  Congregational  di 
vines  and  scholars  of  his  day,  and  then  the  pastor  of  the 
parish  in  which  Nathan  was  born. 

Young  Hale  entered  Yale  College  when  in  the  sixteenth 
year  of  his  age.  His  brother  Enoch,  the  grandfather  of 
Rev.  Edward  Everett  Hale,  of  Boston,  and  two  years  the 
senior  of  Nathan,  entered  Yale  at  the  same  time.  The 
students  then  numbered  about  sixty.  His  course  of  col- 


NATHAN  HALE.  5 

Jege-life  was  eminently  praiseworthy  ;  and  he  was  gradu 
ated  with  the  highest  honors  in  September,  1773.  Popu 
lar  with  all  the  students,  the  tutors,  and  the  faculty,  he 
was  always  a  welcome  visitor  in  the  best  families  of  New 
Haven. 

In  the  autumn  of  1848  I  visited  the  venerable  Eneas 
Munson,  M.  D.,  at  New  Haven.  He  had  been  assistant  sur 
geon,  under  Dr.  Thatcher,  in  the  old  War  for  Independence. 
He  knew  young  Hale  well  during  the  later  period  of  his  life 
at  Yale  College,  for  he  was  then  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
home  of  Dr.  Munson's  father. 

"I  was  greatly  impressed,"  said  Dr.  Munson,  "with 
Hale's  scientific  knowledge,  evinced  during  his  conversation 
with  my  father.  I  am  sure  he  was  equal  to  Andre  in  solid 
acquirements,  and  his  taste  for  art  and  talents  as  an  artist 
were  quite  remarkable.  His  personal  appearance  was  as 
notable.  He  was  almost  six  feet  in  height,  perfectly  propor 
tioned,  and  in  figure  and  deportment  he  was  the  most  manly 
man  I  have  ever  met.  His  chest  was  broad  ;  his  muscles 
were  firm  ;  his  face  wore  a  most  benign  expression ;  his  com 
plexion  was  roseate ;  his  eyes  were  light  blue  and  beamed 
with  intelligence;  his  hair  was  soft  and  light  brown  in 
color,  and  his  speech  was  rather  low,  sweet,  and  musical, 
His  personal  beauty  and  grace  of  manner  were  most  charm 
ing.  Why,  all  the  girls  in  New  Haven  fell  in  love  with 
him,"  said  Dr.  Munson,  "and  wept  tears  of  real  sorrow 
when  they  heard  of  his  sad  fate.  In  dress  he  was  always 
neat ;  he  was  quick  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  a  being  in  dis 
tress,  brute  or  human ;  was  overflowing  with  good-humor, 
and  was  the  idol  of  all  his  acquaintances." 

Such  was  the  verbal    testimony  of  a  personal  acquaint 
ance  of   Nathan  Hale  as  to  his  appearance  and  character 


6  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

when  he  left  Yale  College.*     Dr.  Jared  Sparks,  who  knew 
several  of  Hale's  intimate  friends,  writes  of  him : 


FAC-SIMILE  OF  HALE'S  HAND-WRITING. 

''Possessing  genius,  taste,  and  order,  he  became  distin 
guished  as  a  scholar ;  and,  endowed  in  an  eminent  degree 
with  those  graces  and  gifts  of  Nature  which  add  a  charm  to 
youthful  excellence,  he  gained  universal  esteem  and  confi 
dence.  To  high  moral  worth  and  irreproachable  habits 
were  joined  gentleness  of  manner,  an  ingenuous  disposition, 

*  Dr.  Munson  allowed  me  to  read  the  following  letter  written  by  Hale  to  his 
father,  from  New  London,  late  in  September,  1774,  and  to  make  a  fac-simile  of 

the  last  paragraph  as  seen  above  : 

"NEW  LONDON,  November  30,  1774. 

"  SIR  :  I  am  very  happily  situated  here.  I  love  my  employment  ;  find  many 
friends  among  strangers ;  have  time  for  scientific  study,  and  seem  to  fill  the  place 
assigned  me  with  satisfaction.  I  have  a  school  of  more  than  thirty  boys  to  instruct, 
about  half  of  them  in  Latin  ;  and  my  salary  is  satisfactory.  During  the  summer  I 
had  a  morning  class  of  young  ladies— about  a  score— from  five  to  seven  o'clock  ;  so 
you  see  my  time  is  pretty  fully  occupied,  profitably  I  hope  to  my  pupils  and  to 
their  teacher. 

"  Please  accept  for  yourself  and  Mrs.  Munson  the  grateful  thanks  of  one  who 
will  always  remember  the  kindness  he  ever  experienced  whenever  he  visited  your 
abode  Your  friend,  NATHAN  HALE." 


NATHAN  HALE,  7 

and  vigor  of  understanding.  No  young  man  of  his  years 
put  forth  a  fairer  promise  of  future  usefulness  and  celebrity; 
the  fortunes  of  none  were  fostered  more  sincerely  by  the 
generous  good  wishes  of  his  associates,  and  the  hopes  and 
encouraging  presages  of  his  superiors." 

Among  Hale's  classmates  was  (afterward  Major)  Benja 
min  Tallmadge,  who  had  charge  of  Andre  soon  after  his 
arrest.  With  William  Robinson  and  Ezra  Samson  he  was 
engaged  with  Hale  at  their  graduation,  in  a  Latin  syllogis 
tic  dispute,  followed  by  a  debate  on  the  question,  "  Whether 
the  education  of  daughters  be  not,  without  any  just  reason, 
more  neglected  than  that  of  the  sons?" 

"  In  this  debate  Hale  was  triumphant,"  wrote  James  Hill- 
house,  another  of  his  classmates,  who  was  a  few  months  his 
junior.  "  He  was  the  champion  of  '  The  Daughters/  and 
most  ably  advocated  their  cause.  You  may  be  sure  that  he 
received  the  plaudits  of  the  ladies  present." 

On  leaving  college,  Hale  engaged  in  school-teaching  for 
nearly  two  years.  He  first  taught  a  select  school  at  East 
Haddam,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Connecticut  River,  then  a 
place  of  much  wealth. 

In  1774  he  was  called  to  the  position  of  preceptor  in  the 
Union  Grammar-School  at  New  London,  an  institution  of 
high  grade,  intended  to  furnish  facilities  for  a  thorough  Eng 
lish  education  and  the  classical  preparation  necessary  for 
entering  college.  The  school-building  stood  on  State  Street. 
Young  Hale  was  appointed  its  first  preceptor  after  its  or- 
ganization.  It  was  a  high  compliment  to  his  ability. 

Hale's  connection  with  this  school  was  most  agreeable. 
Everybody  became  warmly  attached  to  him.  His  life  moved 
on  in  a  placid  current,  with  scarcely  a  ripple  upon  its  sur 
face.  He  assiduously  cultivated  science  and  letters,  moved 


8 


THE   TWO   SPIES. 


in  the  most  refined  society,  and  engaged  in  social  pleasures 
and  religious  repose.  His  future  appeared  full  of  joyful 
promises. 


UNION  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL-HOUSE  AT  NEW  LONDON. 

Suddenly  war's  alarms  dispelled  Hale's  dream  of  quiet 
happiness.  The  news  of  the  bloodshed  at  Lexington  and 
Concord  aroused  the  continent — New  England  in  a  special 
manner.  A  messenger,  riding  express  with  the  news,  be 
tween  Boston  and  New  York,  brought  it  to  New  London 
late  on  the  2ist  of  April.  It  created  intense  excitement.  A 
town  meeting  was  called  at  the  court-house  at  twilight. 
Among  the  speakers  present  whose  words  fired  the  hearts 
of  the  eager  listeners  was  Nathan  Hale.  With  impassioned 
language  and  intense  earnestness  he  exhorted  the  people  to 
take  patriotic  action  at  once.  "  Let  us  march  immediately,  ' 
he  cried,  "and  never  lay  down  our  arms  until  we  have  ob 
tained  our  independence!"  This  was  the  first  public  de 
mand  for  independence  made  at  the  beginning  of  the  great 
struggle. 


NATHAN  HALE.  9 

When  the  meeting  adjourned,  Hale,  with  others,  enrolled 
himself  as  a  volunteer.  A  company  was  soon  formed.  On 
the  following  morning  when  the  school  assembled,  he  prayed 
with  his  pupils,  gave  them  good  advice,  bade  each  one  of 
them  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  soon  afterward  departed 
for  Cambridge.  He  returned  and  resumed  his  duties  at 
the  school,  but  it  was  not  long  before  his  intense  desire  to 
serve  his  country  caused  him  to  enlist  as  a  lieutenant  of 
a  company  in  Colonel  Charles  Webb's  regiment — a  body 
raised  by  order  of  the  General  Assembly  for  home  de 
fense,  or,  if  necessary,  for  the  protection  of  the  country 
at  large. 

Late  in  September  Hale  marched  with  his  regiment  to 
Cambridge,  and  participated  in  the  siege  of  Boston.  He 
received  the  commission  of  captain  early  in  January,  and 
was  vigilant  and  brave  at  all  times.  The  British  were  driven 
from  the  New  England  capital  in  March  (1776),  and  sailed 
away  to  Halifax  with  a  host  of  Tories,  who  fled  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Whigs  whom  they  had  oppressed.  After  the 
British  left  Boston,  the  bulk  of  the  American  army  pro 
ceeded  to  New  York.  So  earnest  and  unselfish  was  Hale's 
patriotism  that,  when,  late  in  1775,  the  men  of  his  company, 
whose  term  of  service  had  expired,  determined  to  return 
home,  he  offered  to  give  them  his  month's  pay  if  they  would 
remain  so  much  longer. 

Soon  after  Hale's  arrival  at  New  York,  he  successfully 
performed  a  daring  feat.  A  British  sloop,  laden  with  pro 
visions,  was  anchored  in  the  East  River  under  the  protec 
tion  of  the  guns  of  the  man-of-war  Asia  sixty-four.  General 
Heath  gave  Hale  permission  to  attempt  the  capture  of  the 
supply-vessel.  With  a  few  picked  men  (probably  of  Glov 
er's  brigade,  who  were  largely  seamen),  as  resolute  as  him- 


I0  THE  TWO  SPIES. 

self,  he  proceeded  in  a  whale-boat  silently  at  midnight  to  the 
side  of  the  sloop,  unobserved  by  the  sentinel  on  the  deck. 
Hale  and  his  men  sprang  on  board,  secured  the  sentinel, 
confined  the  crew  below  the  hatches,  raised  her  anchor, 
and  took  her  into  Coenties  Slip  just  at  the  dawn  of  day. 
Captain  Hale  was  at  the  helm.  The  victors  were  greeted 
with  loud  huzzas  from  a  score  of  voices  when  the  sloop 
touched  the  wharf.  The  stores  of  provisions  of  the  prize- 
vessel  were  distributed  among  Hale's  hungry  fellow-sol 
diers. 

We  have  no  information  concerning  Hale's  movements 
from  the  time  of  his  capture  of  the  supply-vessel  until  after 
the  battle  of  Long  Island.  He  became  captain  of  a  company 
of  Connecticut  Rangers  in  May— a  corps  composed  of  choice 
men  picked  from  the  different  Connecticut  regiments,  and 
placed  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Thomas 
Knowlton,  who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the  battle  of 
Bunker's  (Breed's)  Hill.  They  were  known  as  "  Congress's 
Own." 

In  two  or  three  letters  written  by  Hale  to  his  brothers  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  summer,  he  mentions  some  hostile 
movements,  but  there  are  no  indications  that  he  was  en 
gaged  in  any  of  them.  He  seems  not  to  have  been  in  the 
battle  of  Long  Island  or  a  participant  in  the  famous  retreat 
of  Washington  across  the  East  River,  from  Brooklyn,  at  the 
close  of  August.  He  was  among  the  troops  that  remained 
in  New  York  when  the  British  invaded  Long  Island  (for  he 
was  sick  at  that  time),  and  joined  the  retreating  forces  in 
their  march  toward  Harlem  Heights  early  in  September. 
He  first  appears  after  that  movement  in  the  presence  of 
Washington,  at  the  house  of  the  opulent  Quaker  merchant, 
Robert  Murray,  on  Murray  Hill,  to  receive  instructions  for 


NATHAN  HALE.  II 

the  performance  of  an  important  mission.  What  was  the 
nature  of  that  mission  ?  Let  us  see  : 

The  American  army  on  Manhattan  Island  was  in  a  most 
perilous  condition  after  the  retreat  from  Long  Island.  It 
was  fearfully  demoralized,  and  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  ot 
dissolution.  Despair  had  taken  possession  of  the  minds  of 
the  militia.  They  deserted  by  companies  and  even  by  regi 
ments.  Impatient  of  restraint,  insubordination  everywhere 
prevailed.  The  soldiers  clamored  for  pay  ;  the  money-chest 
was  empty.  They  clamored  for  clothing  and  blankets,  as 
cold  weather  was  approaching ;  the  commissary  could  not 
respond.  One  third  of  the  men  were  without  tents,  and  one 
fourth  of  them  were  on  the  sick-roll.  Only  fourteen  thou 
sand  men  were  fit  for  duty,  and  these  were  scattered  in  de 
tachments  lying  between  each  extremity  of  the  island,  a  dis 
tance  of  a  dozen  miles  or  more. 

The  British  army  was  then  twenty-five  thousand  strong, 
and  lay  in  compact  detachments  along  the  shores  of  New 
York  Bay  and  the  East  River,  from  (present)  Greenwood 
Cemetery  to  Flushing  and  beyond.  The  soldiers  were  vet 
erans,  and  were  flushed  with  the  recent  victory.  They  were 
commanded  by  able  generals.  The  army  was  supported  by 
a  powerful  naval  force  \vhich  studded  with  armed  vessels 
the  waters  that  clasped  Manhattan  Island.  Each  arm  of  the 
service  was  magnificently  equipped  with  artillery,  stores, 
and  munitions  of  war  of  every  kind. 

Such  was  the  condition  and  relative  position  of  the  two 
armies  when,  on  the  7th  of  September,  Washington  called  a 
council  of  war  to  consider  the  important  questions,  What 
shall  be  done  ?  Shall  we  defend  or  abandon  New  York  ? 

Washington  had  already  asked  Congress,  "  If  we  should 
be  obliged  to  abandon  the  town,  ought  it  to  stand  as  winter- 


12  THE   TWO  SPIES. 


quarters  for  the  enemy  ?  "  He  was  answered  by  a  resolve 
that,  in  case  he  should  find  it  necessary  that  he  should  quit 
New  York,  he  should  "  have  special  care  taken  that  no  dam- 
age  be  done  to  the  city,  Congress  having  no  doubt  of  their 
being  able  to  recover  it."  It  was  resolved  to  remain  and 
defend  the  city. 


CHAPTER    II. 

PERILS  were  gathering  thick  and  fast,  and  at  another 
council,  held  on  the  i2th,  it  was  resolved  to  abandon  the 
city  and  take  a  position  on  Harlem  Heights.  The  sick  were 
sent  over  to  New  Jersey,  and  the  public  stores  were  taken 
to  Dobb's  Ferry,  twenty  miles  up  the  Hudson  River.  Then 
the  main  army  moved  northward,  leaving  in  the  city  a 
guard  of  four  thousand  men  under  General  Putnam,  with 
orders  to  follow  if  necessary. 

Washington  made  his  headquarters  at  the  house  of  Rob 
ert  Murray  on  the  Hth.  The  position  of  the  American 
army  now  appeared  more  perilous  than  ever.  Two  ships- 
of-war  had  passed  up  the  East  River.  Others  soon  followed. 
Scouts  reported  active  movements  among  the  British  troops 
everywhere,  but  could  not  penetrate,  even  by  reasonable 
conjecture,  the  designs  of  the  enemy.  It  was  of  the  utmost 
importance  to  know  something  of  their  real  intentions. 
Washington  wrote  to  General  Heath,  then  stationed  at 
Kingsbridge : 

"As  everything,  in  a  manner,  depends  upon  obtaining  in 
telligence  of  the  enemy's  motions,  I  do  most  earnestly  en 
treat  you  and  General  Clinton  to  exert  yourselves  to  accom 
plish  this  most  desirable  end.  Leave  no  stone  unturned,  nor 


NATHAN  HALE.  13 

do  not  stick  at  expense,  to  bring  this  to  pass,  as  I  was  never 
more  uneasy  than  on  account  of  my  want  of  knowledge  on 
this  score.  Keep  constant  lookout,  with  good  glasses,  on 
some  commanding  heights  that  look  well  on  to  the  other 
shore." 

The  vital  questions  pressing  for  answer  were,  Will  they 
make  a  direct  attack  upon  the  city?  Will  they  land  upon 
the  island,  above  the  city,  or  at  Morrisania  beyond  the  Har 
lem  River  ?  Will  they  attempt  to  cut  off  our  communica 
tions  with  the  main,  by  seizing  the  region  along  the  Harlem 
River  or  at  Kingsbridge,  by  landing  forces  on  the  shores  of 
the  East  and  Hudson  Rivers,  at  Turtle  Bay,  or  at  Blooming, 
dale,  and,  stretching  a  cordon  of  armed  men  from  river  to 
river,  cut  off  the  four  thousand  troops  left  in  the  city  ? 

Washington,  in  his  perplexity,  called  another  council  of 
war  at  Murray's.  He  told  his  officers  that  he  could  not 
procure  the  least  information  concerning  the  intentions  of 
the  enemy,  and  asked  the  usual  question  of  late,  What  shall 
be  done  ?  It  was  resolved  to  send  a  competent  person,  in 
disguise,  into  the  British  camps  on  Long  Island  to  unveil 
the  momentous  secret.  It  needed  one  skilled  in  military 
and  scientific  knowledge  and  a  good  draughtsman;  a  man 
possessed  of  a  quick  eye,  a  cool  head,  unflinching  courage ; 
tact,  caution,  and  sagacity — a  man  on  whose  judgment  and 
fidelity  implicit  reliance  might  be  placed. 

Washington  sent  for  Lieutenant-Colonel  Knowlton  and 
asked  him  to  seek  for  a  trustful  man  for  the  service,  in  his 
own  noted  regiment  or  in  some  other.  Knowlton  summoned 
a  large  number  of  officers  to  a  conference  at  his  quarters, 
and,  in  the  name  of  the  commander-in-chief,  invited  a  volun 
teer  for  the  important  service.  They  were  surprised.  There 
was  a  long  pause.  Patriotism,  ambition,  a  love  of  advent- 


14  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

ure,  and  indignation,  alternately  took  possession  of  their 
feelings.  It  was  an  invitation  to  serve  their  country  su 
premely  by  becoming  a  spy — a  character  upon  whom  all 
civilized  nations  place  the  ban  of  scorn  and  contumely ! 
They  recoiled  from  such  a  service,  and  there  was  a  general 
and  even  resentful  refusal  to  comply  with  the  request. 

Late  in  the  conference,  when  Knowlton  had  despaired  of 
finding  a  man  competent  and  willing  to  undertake  the  peril 
ous  mission,  a  young  officer  appeared,  pale  from  the  effects 
of  recent  severe  sickness.  Knowlton  repeated  the  invita 
tion,  when,  almost  immediately,  the  voice  of  the  young  sol 
dier  was  heard  uttering  the  momentous  words,  "  I  will  un 
dertake  it !  "  It  was  the  voice  of  Captain  Nathan  Hale. 

Everybody  was  astonished.  The  whole  company  knew 
Hale.  They  loved  and  admired  him.  They  tried  to  dis 
suade  him  from  his  decision,  setting  forth  the  risk  of  sacri 
ficing  all  his  good  prospects  in  life  and  the  fond  hopes  of  his 
parents  and  friends.  They  painted  in  darkest  colors  the  igno 
miny  and  death  to  which  he  might  be  exposed.  His  warmly 
attached  friend,  William  Hull  (afterward  a  general  in  the 
War  of  1812),  who  was  a  member  of  his  company  and  had 
been  a  classmate  at  college,  employed  all  the  force  of 
friendship  and  the  arts  of  persuasion  to  bend  him  from  his 
purpose,  but  in  vain.  With  warmth  and  decision  Hale 
said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  think  I  owe  to  my  country  the  accom 
plishment  of  an  object  so  important  and  so  much  desired 
by  the  commander  of  her  armies,  and  I  know  no  mode  of 
obtaining  the  information  but  by  assuming  a  disguise  and 
passing  into  the  enemy's  camp.  I  am  fully  sensible  of  the 
consequences  of  discovery  and  capture  in  such  a  situation. 
But  for  a  year  I  have  been  attached  to  the  army,  and  have 


NATHAN  HALE.  15 

not  rendered  any  material  service,  while  receiving-  a  com 
pensation  for  which  I  make  no  return.  Yet  I  am  not  influ 
enced  by  any  expectation  of  promotion  or  pecuniary  reward. 
I  wish  to  be  useful ;  and  every  kind  of  service  necessary  for  the 
public  good  becomes  honorable  by  being  necessary.  If  the  exigen 
cies  of  my  country  demand  a  peculiar  service,  its  claims  to 
the  performance  of  that  service  are  imperious." 

These  manly,  wise,  and  patriotic  words — this  willingness 
to  sacrifice  himself,  if  necessary,  for  the  good  of  his  country 
— silenced  his  brother  officers.  Accompanied  by  Knowlton, 
he  appeared  before  Washington  the  same  afternoon,  and 
received  instructions  concerning  his  mission.  His  com 
mander  also  furnished  him  with  a  general  order  to  the 
owners  of  all  American  vessels  in  Long  Island  Sound  to 
convey  him  to  any  point  on  Long  Island  which  he  might 
designate. 

Hale  left  the  camp  on  Harlem  Heights  the  same  evening, 
accompanied  by  Sergeant  Stephen  Hempstead,  a  trust 
worthy  member  of  his  company,  whom  he  engaged  to  go 
with  him  as  far  as  it  would  be  prudent.  He  was  also  accom 
panied  by  his  trusty  servant,  Ansel  Wright.  They  found 
no  safe  place  to  cross  the  Sound  until  they  arrived  at  Nor- 
walk,  fifty  miles  from  New  York,  owing  to  the  presence  of 
small  British  cruisers  in  those  waters.  There  Hale  ex 
changed  his  regimentals  for  a  citizen's  dress  of  brown  cloth 
and  a  broad-brimmed  round  hat,  and  directed  Hempstead 
and  Wright  to  tarry  for  him  at  Norwalk  until  his  return, 
which  he  supposed  would  be  on  the  2Oth.  He  directed  a 
boat  to  be  sent  for  him  on  the  morning  of  that  day,  and  left 
with  Hempstead  his  uniform  and  his  military  commission 
and  other  papers. 

There   are   somewhat   conflicting    accounts    concerning 


X6  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

Hale's  movements  after  he  left  Norwalk.  All  agree  that  he 
was  conveyed  across  the  Sound  to  Huntington  Bay,  where 
he  landed  ;  that  he  assumed  the  character  of  a  schoolmaster 
and  loyalist  disgusted  with  the  "  rebel "  cause,  and  that  he 
professed  to  be  in  quest  of  an  engagement  as  a  school 
teacher.  It  is  known  that  he  entered  the  British  camps  in 
personal  disguise  and  with  the  pretext  of  loyalty  and  the 
character  of  a  pedagogue ;  that  he  was  received  with  great 
cordiality  as  a  "  good  fellow  "  ;  that  he  visited  all  the  British 
camps  on  Long  Island,  made  observations  openly,  and  draw 
ings  and  memoranda  of  fortifications,  etc.,  secretly  ;  that  he 
passed  over  from  Brooklyn  to  New  York  city  and  gathered 
much  information  concerning  affairs  there,  the  British  hav 
ing  invaded  Manhattan  Island  and  secured  possession  of  the 
town  since  his  departure ;  *  and  that  he  returned  to  Long 
Island  and  passed  through  the  various  camps  to  Huntington 
Bay  for  the  purpose  of  going  back  to  Norwalk. 

Tradition  tells  us  that  Hale  was  conveyed  from  Norwalk 
to  Huntington  Bay  on  a  sloop,  and  was  landed  from  her 
yawl  two  hours  before  daybreak  in  the  neighborhood  of  a 
place  called  "  The  Cedars."  Near  there  a  Widow  Chiches- 
ter,  a  stanch  loyalist  (called  "  Widow  Chich  "),  kept  a  tav 
ern,  which  was  the  resort  of  all  the  Tories  in  that  region. 
Hale  passed  this  dangerous  place  with  safety  before  cock- 
crowing,  and  at  a  farm-house  a  mile  distant  he  was  kindly 
furnished  with  breakfast  and  a  bed  for  repose  after  his 
night's  toil.  Then  he  made  his  way  to  the  nearest  British 

*  On  the  day  after  Hale's  departure,  a  strong  British  force  crossed  the  East 
River  and  landed  at  Kip's  Bay  at  the  foot  of  (present)  Thirty-fourth  Street,  drove 
off  an  American  detachment  stationed  there,  and  formed  a  line  almost  across  the  isl 
and  to  Bloomingdale.  On  the  i6th  detachments  of  the  two  armies  had  a  severe  con- 
test  on  Harlem  Plains,  in  which  the  Americans  were  victorious,  but  at  the  cost  of 
the  life  of  the  gallant  Colonel  Knowlton. 


NA  THAN  HALE.  I  j 

camp,  and  was  received  without  suspicion  of  his  real  charac 
ter.  Concerning  his  movements  after  that-,  until  his  return 
from  New  York,  tradition  is  silent. 

Hale,  on  his  return,  had  reached  in  safety  the  point  on 
the  Long  Island  shore  where  he  first  landed,  and  prepared 
to  recross  the  sound  at  Norwalk  the  next  morning.  He 
wore  shoes  with  loose  inner  soles.  Between  the  soles  he 
had  concealed  the  accurate  drawings  he  had  made  of  fortifi 
cations,  etc.,  and  also  his  memoranda,  written  in  Latin  on 
thin  paper.  He  had  given  directions  for  the  boat,  from 
which  he  had  landed,  to  come  for  him  on  a  designated 
morning,  which  would  be  the  next  after  his  return.  Satis 
fied  that  he  was  safe  from  harm,  for  he  was  remote  from  a 
British  post,  and  happy  with  the  thought  that  his  perilous 
mission  was  ended  successfully  and  that  he  should  render 
his  country  most  important  service,  he  awaited  the  coming 
morning  with  patience  and  serenity  of  mind. 

Feeling  secure  in  his  simple  dress  and  disguised  manner, 
Hale  entered  the  tavern  of  the  Widow  Chichester,  at  "  The 
Cedars."  A  number  of  persons  were  in  the  room.  A  mo 
ment  afterward,  a  man,  whose  face  seemed  familiar  to  him, 
suddenly  departed  and  was  not  seen  again. 

Hale  passed  the  night  at  the  tavern,  and  at  dawn  went 
out  to  look  for  the  expected  boat.  To  his  great  joy  he  saw 
one  moving  toward  the  shore,  with  several  men  in  it.  Not 
doubting  they  were  his  friends,  he  hastened  toward  the 
beach,  where,  as  the  vessel  touched  the  shore,  he  was 
astounded  by  the  sight  of  a  barge  bearing  British  marines. 
He  turned  to  flee,  when  a  loud  voice  called,  "  Surrender  or 
die ! "  Looking  back  he  saw  six  men  standing  erect,  with 
muskets  leveled  at  him.  He  was  seized,  taken  into  the 
barge,  and  conveyed  to  the  British  guard-ship  Halifax, 


i8 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


Captain  Quarne,  which  was  anchored  behind  a  point  of 
wooded  land  of  Lloyd's  Neck. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  the  man  who  so  suddenly  de 
parted  from  the  room  of  the  tavern  at  "  The  Cedars  "  when 
Hale  entered  was  a  Tory  cousin  of  his,  a  dissipated  fellow, 
who  recognized  his  kinsman  in  disguise  and  betrayed  him 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy  ;  but  there  is  no  warrant  for 
such  an  accusation. 

Hale's  captors  stripped  and  searched  him,  and  found  the 
evidences  of  his  being  a  spy  in  the  papers  concealed  be 
tween  the  soles  of  his  shoes.  These  formed  as  positive  tes- 


THE  BEEKMAN  MANSION. 


timony  as  to  his  true  character  as  did  the  papers  found  in 
Andre's  boot,  which  convicted  the  adjutant-general  of  the 
British  army  of  being  a  spy. 

Captain  Hale  was  taken  in  one  of  the  boats  of  the  Halt- 


NATHAN  HALE.  !9 

fax  to  General  Howe's  headquarters,  at  the  elegant  mansion 
of  James  Beekman,  at  Mount  Pleasant,  as  the  high  bank  of 
the  East  River  at  Turtle  Bay  was  called.  The  house  was 
situated  at  (present)  Fifty-first  Street  and  First  Avenue.  It 
was  then  deserted  by  its  stanch  Whig  owner.  Around  it 


BEEKMAN'S  GREENHOUSE. 

were  beautiful  lawns  and  blooming  gardens  ;  and  near  it 
was  a  greenhouse  filled  with  exotic  shrubbery  and  plants.* 
In  that  greenhouse  Hale  was  confined,  under  a  strong 
guard,  on  Saturday  night,  the  2ist  of  September.  He  had 

*  I  made  a  sketch  of  the  Beekman  mansion  in  1849,  and  of  the  greenhouse  in 
1852,  a  few  days  before  it  was  demolished,  with  all  the  glories  of  the  garden,  at 
Mount  Pleasant ;  for,  at  the  behest  of  the  Street  Commissioner,  streets  were  opened 
through  the  whole  Beekman  domain.  The  site  of  the  greenhouse  was  in  the 
center  of  (present)  Fifty-second  Street,  a  little  east  of  First  Avenue.  It  was  erected 
with  the  mansion  in  1764.  The  mansion  was  occupied,  during  the  war,  as  head 
quarters  by  Generals  Howe,  Clinton,  and  Robertson.  It  was  the  residence  of  the 
Brunswick  General  Riedesel  and  his  family  in  the  summer  of  1780.  General 
Carleton  occupied  it  in  1783. 


20  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

been  taken  before  Howe,  who,  without  trial,  and  upon  the 
evidence  found  in  his  shoes,  condemned  him  to  be  hanged 
early  the  next  morning.  Howe  delivered  him  into  the  cus 
tody  of  William  Cunningham,  the  notorious  British  provost- 
marshal,  with  orders  to  execute  him  before  sunrise  the  next 
day. 

This  severity,  nay,  absolute  inhumanity,  was  doubtless 
the  result  of  great  irritation  of  the  minds  of  the  British  offi 
cers  at  that  moment.  They  had  looked  upon  the  little  city 
of  New  York,  containing  twenty  thousand  inhabitants,  as  a 
most  comfortable  place  for  their  winter-quarters.  On  the 
very  morning  when  Hale  was  arrested  (at  a  little  past  mid 
night),  a  fearful  conflagration  was  accidentally  begun  at  a  low 
tavern  on  the  wharf  near  Whitehall  Slip  (now  Staten  Island 
Ferry).  Swiftly  the  flames  spread,  and  were  not  quenched 
until  about  five  hundred  buildings  were  consumed.  The 
British  believed,  and  so  declared,  that  the  fire  was  the  work 
of  Whig  incendiaries,  to  deprive  the  army  of  comforts.  The 
city  was  yet  ablaze  while  Hale  was  lying  in  Beekman's 
greenhouse,  awaiting  his  doom  in  the  early  morning. 

When  Hale  was  taken  before  Howe,  he  frankly  acknowl 
edged  his  rank  and  his  purpose  as  a  spy.  He  firmly  but  re 
spectfully  told  of  his  success  in  getting  information  in  the 
British  camps,  and  expressed  his  regret  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  serve  his  country  better.  "  I  was  present  at 
this  interview,"  wrote  a  British  officer,  "  and  I  observed  that 
the  frankness,  the  manly  bearing,  and  the  evident  disinter 
ested  patriotism  of  the  handsome  young  prisoner,  sensibly 
touched  a  tender  chord  of  General  Howe's  nature  ;  but  the 
stern  rules  of  war  concerning  such  offenses  would  not  allow 

/  him  to  exercise  even  pity." 

« 


NATHAN  HALE.  2l 


CHAPTER   III. 

LONG  before  daybreak  of  a  Christian  Sabbath,  Nathan 
Hale  was  marched  to  the  place  of  execution,  in  the  vicinity 
of  (present)  East  Broadway  and  Market  Street.  He  was 
escorted  by  a  file  of  soldiers,  and  there  delivered  to  the  pro 
vost-marshal.  The  young  commander  of  a  British  detach 
ment  lying  near,  told  Captain  William  Hull  that  on  Hale's 
arrival  he  requested  Cunningham  to  allow  him  to  sit  in  his 
(the  officer's)  marquee  while  waiting  for  the  necessary  prepa 
rations.  The  boon  was  granted.  Hale  requested  the  pres 
ence  of  a  chaplain  ;  it  was  denied.  He  asked  for  a  Bible  ;  it 
was  refused.  At  the  solicitation  of  the  compassionate  young 
officer  in  whose  tent  Hale  sat,  he  was  allowed  to  write  brief 
letters  to  his  mother,  sisters,  and  the  young  maiden  to  whom 
he  was  betrothed  ;  *  but,  when  they  were  handed  to  the  pro 
vost-marshal  to  cause  them  to  be  forwarded,  that  officer  read 
them.  He  grew  furious  as  he  perceived  the  noble  spirit 
which  breathed  in  every  sentence,  and  with  coarse  oaths 
and  foul  epithets  he  tore  them  into  shreds  before  the  face  of 
his  young  victim.  Hale  gave  Cunningham  a  withering 
glance  of  scorn,  and  then  resumed  his  usual  calmness  and 

*  Her  name  was  Alice  Adams.  She  was  a  native  of  Canterbury,  Connecticut, 
and  was  distinguished  both  for  her  intelligence  and  personal  beauty.  After  Hale's 
death  she  married  Eleazar  Ripley,  who  left  her  a  widow,  with  one  child,  at  the  age 
of  eighteen  years.  The  child  died  about  a  year  after  its  father's  death,  and  the 
mother  subsequently  married  William  Lawrence,  of  Hartford,  where  she  lived  until 
September,  1845,  when  she  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-eight  years.  She  possessed  a 
miniature  of  Hale  and  many  of  his  letters.  The  miniature  and  the  letters  disap 
peared  many  years  ago,  and  there  is  no  likeness  of  the  young  martyr  extant.  The 
last  words  uttered  by  Hale's  betrothed  were,  "Write  to  Nathan  !  "—Stuart's  "  Life 
of  Nathan  Hale,"  p.  28. 


22 


THE   TWO   SPIES. 


dignity  of  demeanor.  The  provost-marshal  afterward  said 
that  he  destroyed  the  epistles  "  that  the  rebels  should  never 
know  that  they  had  a  man  who  could  die  with  such  firm 


ness. 


^  r 


CUNNINGHAM  DESTROYING  HALE'S  LETTERS. 

It  was  in  the  morning  twilight  of  a  beautiful  September 
day  that  Hale  was  led  out  to  execution.     The  gallows  was 


NATHAN  HALE.  23 

the  limb  of  an  apple-tree  in  Colonel  Rutgers's  orchard.* 
Even  at  that  early  hour  quite  a  large  number  of  men  and 
women  had  gathered  to  witness  the  sad  scene.  Cunning 
ham  watched  every  arrangement  with  evident  satisfaction ; 
and,  when  everything  was  ready  for  the  last  scene  in  the 
tragedy,  he  scoffingly  demanded  of  his  victim  his  "  last 
dying  speech  and  confession !  " 

The  soul  of  the  young  martyr,  patriot,  and  hero,  who 
was  standing  upon  the  fatal  ladder  f  with  his  eyes  turned 
heavenward,  was  then  in  secret  communion  with  his  Maker, 
and  his  mortal  ears  seemed  closed  to  earthly  sounds.  He 
did  not  notice  the  insulting  words  of  the  human  fiend.  A 
moment  afterward  he  looked  benignly  upon  the  evidently 
sympathetic  spectators,  and  with  a  calm,  clear  voice  pro 
nounced  the  last  words  uttered  by  him : 

"  I  only  regret  that  I  have  but  one  life  to  lose  for  my 
country  ! " 


cm 


*  The  place  of  Hale's  execution  has  been  a  subject  of  conjecture.  Some  have 
supposed  that  it  occurred  near  the  Beekman  mansion,  Howe's  headquarters  ;  others, 
that  he  was  taken  from  the  Provost  Prison  (now  the  Hall  of  Records),  in  the  City 
Hall  Park,  to  the  usual  place  of  execution  of  state  criminals,  at  the  Barracks  near 
Chambers  Street  ;  and  others,  on  the  farm  of  Colonel  Rutgers,  whose  country  man 
sion  was  near  the  East  River — at  Pike  and  Monroe  Streets. 

In  1849  I  visited  the  venerable  Jeremiah  Johnson,  ex-Mayor  of  Brooklyn,  who 
was  living  at  his  farm-house  not  far  from  the  Navy- Yard,  then  between  the  city  of 
Brooklyn  and  the  village  of  Williamsburgh.  Among  other  interesting  facts  concern 
ing  the  Revolution,  of  his  own  experience  and  observation,  which  he  had  treasured  in 
his  memory,  was  that  his  father  was  present  at  the  execution  of  Hale.  Like  other 
Long  Island  farmers  at  that  time,  he  went  to  New  York  occasionally  with  truck. 
On  the  day  of  the  great  fire  he  was  there,  when  himself  and  his  team  were  pressed 
into  the  service  of  the  British.  He  was  with  the  detachment  on  Colonel  Rutgers's 
farm  at  the  time  of  the  execution,  and  saw  the  martyr  hanged  upon  the  limb  of  an 
apple-tree  in  Rutgers's  orchard.  It  was  at  the  west  side,  not  far  from  the  line  of 
(present)  East  Broadway. 

\  The  method  employed  at  military  executions  at  that  time  was  to  place  a  ladder 
against  the  gallows-beam  or  limb,  cause  the  prisoner  to  ascend  it  a  few  feet,  and, 
at  a  given  signal,  turn  the  ladder  and  leave  the  victim  suspended. 


24  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

The  women  wept ;  some  of  them  sobbed  audibly.  The 
sublime  and  burning  words  of  the  victim  about  to  be  sacri 
ficed  upon  the  altar  of  liberty,  and  the  visible  tokens  of  sym 
pathy  among  those  who  witnessed  the  scene,  maddened  the 
coarse-natured  and  malignant  provost-marshal.*  He  cried 
out  in  a  voice  hoarse  with  anger,  "  Swing  the  rebel  off !  "  and 
cursed  the  tearful  women  with  foul  imprecations,  calling 
them  rebels  and  harlots ! 

So  ended,  in  an  atmosphere  of  mingled  Christian  faith, 
fortitude,  and  hope,  and  of  savage  barbarism  and  brutality, 
the  beautiful  life-drama  of  Nathan  Hale,  the  early  martyr 
for  the  cause  of  human  freedom  in  the  grand  struggle  for 
the  independence  of  our  country.  It  is  a  cause  for  just  re 
proach  of  our  people  that  their  history,  poetry,  oratory,  and 
art  have,  for  more  than  a  century,  neglected  to  erect  a  fit 
ting  memorial  to  his  memory — either  in  the  literature  of  the 
land  he  so  loved  that  he  freely  gave  his  young  life  a  sacrifice 
for  its  salvation  from  bondage,  or  in  bronze  or  marble.  No 
where  in  our  broad  domain,  stretching  from  sea  to  sea, 
teeming  with  almost  sixty  million  freemen,  is  there  even  a 
mural  tablet  seen  with  the  name  of  Nathan  Hale  upon  it, 
excepting  a  small  monument  in  his  native  town,  overlooking 


*  The  pen  of  every  writer  who  has  noticed  the  career  of  William  Cunningham, 
the  notorious  provost-marshal  of  the  British  army  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia, 
has  portrayed  him  as  a  most  detestable  character.  To  the  credit  of  the  commander 
with  whom  he  served,  be  it  said  that  it  is  satisfactorily  proven  that  he  was  employed 
directly  by  the  British  ministry,  and  was  independent  of  the  authority  of  Howe  and 
Clinton.  He  was  a  large,  burly,  red-haired,  red-faced  Irishman,  sixty  years  of  age, 
addicted  to  strong  drink  to  excess,  and  with  most  forbidding  features.  His  cruel 
ties  and  crimes  committed  while  in  charge  of  prisoners  of  war  in  New  York  were 
notorious  and  monstrous.  Upon  the  scaffold  in  England,  after  the  war,  he  con 
fessed  that  he  had  caused  the  death  of  fully  two  thousand  prisoners  under  his 
charge  by  starvation  and  otherwise.  He  put  poison  into  their  food  at  times,  and 
sold  their  rations  for  his  own  benefit,  allowing  the  prisoners  to  starve  ! 


NATHAN  HALE.  25 

the  graves  of  his  kindred,  in  an  obscure  church-yard,  which 
was  erected  forty  years  ago. 

The  body  of  the  martyr  was  laid  in  the  earth  near  the 
spot  where  his  spirit  left  it.  A  British  officer  was  sent  to 
acquaint  Washington  with  his  fate.  A  rude  stone  placed  by 
the  side  of  the  grave  of  his  father,  in  the  burial-ground  of 
the  Congregational  Church  in  his  native  town,  for  long 
years  revealed  to  passers-by  the  fact  that  it  was  in  com 
memoration  of  "  Nathan  Hale,  Esq.,  a  captain  in  the  army  of 
the  United  States,  who  was  born  June  6,  1755,  received  the 
first  honors  of  Yale  College,  September,  1773,"  and  "  re 
signed  his  life  a  sacrifice  to  his  country's  liberty  at  New 
York,  September  22,  1776,  aged  twenty-two."  An  entry  of 
Lkis  death  was  made  upon  the  town  records  of  Coventry. 

Late  in  November,  1837— sixty-one  years  after  his  sacri 
fice—the  citizens  of  Coventry  formed  a  "  Hale  Monument 
Association  "  for  the  purpose  of  raising  funds  for  the  erec 
tion  of  a  suitable  memorial  to  the  memory  of  the  young 
patriot.  The  association  applied  in  vain  to  Congress  for 
aid.  By  fairs,  tea-parties,  private  dramatic  performances, 
and  other  social  appliances,  carried  on  chiefly  by  the  gentler 
sex,  and  a  grant  of  twelve  hundred  dollars  by  the  State  of 
Connecticut,  a  sufficient  sum  was  secured  in  1846  to  erect 
the  desired  monument. 

At  one  of  the  fairs,  a  poem,  addressed  to  "  The  Daugh 
ters  of  Freedom,"  and  printed  on  white  satin,  was  offered 
for  sale,  and  was  widely  distributed.  It  contained  the  fol 
lowing  verses  : 

"  Ye  come  with  hearts  that  oft  have  glowed 

At  his  soul-stirring  tale, 
To  wreath  the  deathless  evergreen 
Around  the  name  of  Hale. 


26 


THE    TWO   SPIES. 


THE  HALE  MONUMENT  AT  COVENTRY. 


NATHAN  HALE.  27 

"  Here  his  memorial  stone  shall  rise 

In  freedom's  hallowed  shade, 
Prouder  than  Andre's  trophied  tomb 
'Mid  mightiest  monarchs  laid." 

The  Hale  memorial  stands  upon  elevated  ground  near 
the  Congregational  Church  in  South  Coventry,  and  by  the 
side  of  the  old  burial-ground  in  which  repose  the  remains  of 
his  nearest  kindred.  Toward  the  north  it  overlooks  the 
beautiful  Lake  Waugumbaug,  in  the  pellucid  waters  of  which 
Hale  angled  in  his  boyhood  and  early  youth. 

The  monument  was  designed  by  Henry  Austin,  of  New 
Haven,  and  was  erected  under  the  superintendence  of  Solo 
mon  Willard,  the  architect  of  the  Bunker's  Hill  Monument. 
It  was  completed  in  the  summer  of  1846,  at  a  cost  of  three 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  thirty-four  dollars.  The  mate 
rial  is  Quincy  granite.  Its  form  is  seen  in  the  engraving. 
The  height  is  forty-five  feet,  and  it  is  fourteen  feet  square  at 
its  base.  The  pedestal  bears  on  its  four  sides  the  following 
inscriptions : 

North  side:  "  CAPTAIN  NATHAN  HALE,  1776."  West 
side:  "  Born  at  Coventry,  June  6,  1755."  East  side :  "  Died 
at  New  York,  September  22,  1776.''  South  side :  "  I  REGRET 

THAT    I    HAVE   BUT   ONE   LIFE   TO    LOSE   FOR   MY   COUNTRY." 

The  fate  of  young  Hale  produced  universal  sorrow  in 
the  Continental  army  and  among  the  patriotic  people.  In 
the  Whig  newspapers  of  the  day  tributes  to  his  worth  as  a 
man  and  a  patriot  appeared  in  both  prose  and  verse.*  Dur- 

*  A  ballad  was  written  and  published,  soon  after  Hale's  death,  which  was  very 
popular  at  the  time.     It  was  evidently  written  by  one  who  was  not  well  informed 
as  to  the  true  history  of  the  matter.     Of  his  arrest  the  ballad  says : 
"  Cooling  shades  of  the  night  were  coming  apace, 

The  tattoo  had  beat,  the  tattoo  had  beat, 
The  noble  one  sprang  from  his  dark  lurking-place, 
To  make  his  retreat,  to  make  his  retreat. 


28  THE    TWO  SPIES. 

ing  the  War  of  1812'-! 5,  a  little  fort,  erected  upon  Black 
Rock,  at  the  entrance  to  New  Haven  Harbor,  on  the  site  of 
a  smaller  one,  built  during  the  Revolution,  was  named  Fort 
Hale,  the  first  monument  of  stone  that  commemorated  him. 
It  has  long  been  in  ruins.  Then  followed  the  simple  struct 
ure  built  by  his  neighbors  at  Coventry.  Brief  notices  of 
the  martyr  have  been  given  from  time  to  time  in  occasional 
poetic  effusions  and  in  oratory.  Timothy  Dwight,  Hale's 
tutor  at  Yale  College,  and  afterward  president  of  that  insti 
tution,  wrote : 

"  Thus  while  fond  Virtue  wished  in  vain  to  save, 
HALE,  bright  and  generous,  found  a  hapless  grave ; 
With  genius'  living  flame  his  bosom  glowed, 
And  Science  lured  him  to  her  sweet  abode. 
In  Worth's  fair  path  his  feet  adventured  far, 
The  pride  of  peace,  the  rising  hope  of  war  ; 
In  duty  firm,  in  danger  calm  as  even, 
To  friends  unchanging,  and  sincere  to  Heaven. 
How  short  his  course,  the  prize  how  early  won  ! 
While  weeping  Friendship  mourns  her  favorite  gone." 

I.  W.  Stuart,  in  his  little  biography  of  Hale,*  has  pre 
served  fragments  of  several  poetic  effusions.  A  short  time 
after  Hale's  death,  an  unknown  personal  friend  of  the  mar 
tyr  wrote  a  poem  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  lines,  in  which 
he  described  the  personal  appearance  of  the  young  soldier— 

"  He  warily  trod  on  the  dry,  rustling  leaves 

As  he  passed  through  the  wood,  as  he  passed  through  the  wood, 
And  silently  gained  his  rude  launch  on  the  shore, 

As  she  played  with  the  flood,  as  she  played  with  the  flood. 

"  The  guards  of  the  camp  on  that  dark,  dreary  night 

Had  a  murderous  will,  a  murderous  will ; 
They  took  him  and  bore  him  afar  from  the  shore, 

To  a  hut  on  the  hill,  to  a  hut  on  the  hill." 

*  "  Life  of  Captain  Nathan  Hale,  the  Martyr  Spy  of  the  American  Revolution." 
By  I.  W.  Stuart,  Hartford,  1856. 


NATHAN  HALE.  29 

tall  and  with  "  a  beauteous  face."     Of  his  qualities  of  temper 
and  conduct  he  wrote  : 

"  Removed  from  envy,  malice,  pride,  and  strife, 
He  walked  through  goodness  as  he  walked  through  life ; 
A  kinder  brother  Nature  never  knew, 
A  child  more  duteous  or  a  friend  more  true." 

Of  Hale's  motives  in  becoming  a  spy  he  wrote : 

"  Hate  of  oppression's  arbitrary  plan, 
The  love  of  freedom,  and  the  rights  of  man ; 
A  strong  desire  xo  save  from  slavery's  chain 
The  future  millions  of  the  Western  main." 

The  poet  follows  him  in  his  career  until  he  enters  upon 
his  perilous  mission  under  instructions  from  Washington. 
Of  the  final  scene  he  wrote  : 

"  Not  Socrates  or  noble  Russell  died, 
Or  gentle  Sidney,  Britain's  boast  and  pride, 
Or  gen'rous  Moore,  approached  life's  final  goal, 
With  more  composed,  more  firm  and  stable  soul." 

J.  S.  Babcock,  of  Coventry,  wrote  in  the  metre  of  Wolfe's 
4t  Sir  John  Moore  "  : 

"  He  fell  in  the  spring  of  his  early  prime, 
With  his  fair  hopes  all  around  him  ; 
He  died  for  his  birth-land — a  '  glorious  crime  ' — 
Ere  the  palm  of  his  fame  had  crowned  him. 

"  He  fell  in  her  darkness — he  lived  not  to  see 

The  noon  of  her  risen  glory  ; 

But  the  name  of  the  brave,  in  the  hearts  of  the  free, 
Shall  be  twined  in  her  deathless  glory." 

In  a  poem  delivered  before  the  Linonian  Society  of  Yale 
College,  at  its  centennial  anniversary  in  1853,  a  society  of 
which  Hale  was  a  member,  Francis  M.  Finch  said,  in  allu 
sion  to  the  martyr  : 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 

To  drum-beat  and  heart-beat, 

A  soldier  marches  by  ; 
There  is  color  on  his  cheek, 

There  is  courage  in  his  eye ; 
Yet  to  drum-beat  and  heart-beat 

In  a  moment  he  must  die. 

By  starlight  and  moonlight 
He  seeks  the  Briton's  camp  ; 

He  hears  the  rustling  flag, 

And  that  armed  sentry's  tramp  ; 

And  the  starlight  and  moonlight 
His  silent  wanderings  lamp. 

With  slow  tread,  and  still  tread, 
He  scans  the  tented  line  ; 

And  he  counts  the  battery-guns 
By  the  gaunt  and  shadowy  pine ; 

And  his  slow  tread  and  still  tread 
Gives  no  warning  sign. 

"  The  dark  wave,  the  plumed  wave, 
It  meets  his  eager  glance, 

And  it  sparkles  'neath  the  stars 
Like  the  glimmer  of  a  lance  ; 

A  dark  wave,  a  plumed  wave, 
On  an  emerald  expanse. 


With  calm  brow,  steady  brow, 

He  listens  to  his  doom  ; 
In  his  look  there  is  no  fear, 

Nor  a  shadow  trace  of  gloom  ; 
And  with  calm  brow  and  steady  brow 

He  robes  him  for  the  tomb. 

;  In  the  long  night,  the  still  night, 

He  kneels  upon  the  sod  ; 
And  the  brutal  guards  withhold 

E'en  the  solemn  Word  of  God  ! 
In  the  long  night,  the  still  night, 

He  walks  where  Christ  hath  trod  I 


NATHAN  HALE. 

"  'Neath  the  blue  morn,  the  sunny  morn, 

He  dies  upon  the  tree  ; 
And  he  mourns  that  he  can  lose 

But  one  life  for  Liberty  ; 
And  in  the  blue  morn,  the  sunny  morn 

His  spirit-wings  are  free  ! 


"  From  fame-leaf  and  angel-leaf, 

From  monument  and  urn, 
The  sad  of  earth,  the  glad  of  heaven, 

His  tragic  fate  shall  learn  ; 
And  on  fame-leaf  and  angel-leaf 

The  name  of  HALE  shall  burn  !  " 

At  the  dedication  of  a  monument  in  1853,  erected  on  the 
spot  near  Tarrytown  where  Andre  was  captured,  the  late 
Henry  J.  Raymond,  in  an  address  on  the  occasion,  said  : 

"At  an  early  stage  of  the  Revolution,  NATHAN  HALE, 
captain  in  the  American  army,  which  he  had  entered,  aban 
doning  brilliant  prospects  of  professional  distinction  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  defending  the  liberties  of  his  country— gifted, 
educated,  ambitious— the  equal  of  Andre  in  talent,  in  worth, 
in  amiable  manners,  and  in  every  manly  quality,  and  his  su 
perior  in  that  final  test  of  character— the  motives  by  which 
his  acts  were  prompted  and  his  life  was  guided— laid  aside 
every  consideration  personal  to  himself,  and  entered  upon  a 
service  of  infinite  hazard  to  life  and  honor,  because  Wash 
ington  deemed  it  important  to  the  sacred  cause  to  which 
both  had  been  sacredly  set  apart.  Like  Andre,  he  was 
found  in  the  hostile  camp  ;  like  him,  though  without  trial, 
he  was  adjudged  as  a  spy  ;  and,  like  him,  he  was-  con 
demned  to  death. 

"  And  here  the  likeness  ends.  No  consoling  word,  no 
pitying  or  respectful  look,  cheered  the  dark  hours  of  his 
doom.  He  was  met  with  insult  at  every  turn.  The  sacred 


3 2  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

consolations  of  the  minister  of  God  were  denied  him  ;  the 
Bible  was  taken  from  him  ;  with  an  excess  of  barbarity  hard 
to  be  paralleled  in  civilized  war,  his  dying  letters  of  farewell 
to  his  mother  and  sisters  were  destroyed  in  his  presence  ; 
and,  uncheered  by  sympathy,  mocked  by  brutal  power,  and 
attended  only  by  that  sense  of  duty,  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
which  had  ruled  his  life— finding  a  fit  farewell  in  the  serene 
and  sublime  regret  that  he  had  '  but  one  life  to  lose  for  his 
country  '—he  went  forth  to  meet  the  great  darkness  of  an 
ignominious  death. 

"  The  loving  hearts  of  his  early  companions  have  erected 
a  neat  monument  to  his  memory  in  his  native  town ;  but, 
beyond  that  little  circle,  where  stands  his  name  recorded  ? 
While  the  majesty  of  England,  in  the  person  of  her  sover 
eign,  sent  an  embassy  across  the  sea  to  solicit  the  remains  of 
Andre  at  the  hands  of  his  foes,  that  they  might  be  enshrined 
in  that  sepulchre  where  she  garners  the  relics  of  her  mighty 
and  renowned  sons — 

'  Splendid  in  their  ashes,  pompous  in  the  grave,' 

the  children  of  Washington  have  left  the  body  of  HALE  to 
sleep  in  its  unknown  tomb,  though  it  be  on  his  native  soil, 
unhonored  by  any  outward  observance,  unmarked  by  any 
memorial  stone.  Monody,  eulogy,  monument  of  marble  or 
of  brass,  and  of  letters  more  enduring  than  all,  have  in  his 
own  land  and  in  ours  given  the  name  and  fate  of  Andre  to 
the  sorrowing  remembrance  of  all  time  to  come.  American 
genius  has  celebrated  his  praises,  has  sung  of  his  virtues, 
and  exalted  to  heroic  heights  his  prayer,  manly  but  personal 
to  himself,  for  choice  in  the  manner  of  death— his  dying 
challenge  to  all  men  to  witness  the  courage  with  which  he 
met  his  fate.  But  where,  save  on  the  cold  page  of  history, 


NATHAN  HALE.  33 

stands  the  record  of  HALE  ?  Where  is  the  hymn  that  speaks 
to  immortality,  and  tells  of  the  added  brightness  and  en 
hanced  glory  when  his  soul  joined  its  noble  host  ?  And 
where  sleep  the  American  of  Americans,  that  their  hearts 
are  not  stirred  to  solemn  rapture  at  the  thought  of  the  sub 
lime  love  ol  country  which  buoyed  him  not  alone  '  above  the 
fear  of  death,'  but  far  beyond  all  thought  of  himself,  of  his 
fate  and  his  fame,  or  of  anything  less  than  his  country— and 
which  shaped  his  dying  breath  into  the  sacred  sentence 
which  trembled  at  the  last  upon  his  quivering  lip  ?  " 

These  eloquent  words  have  a  deeper  significance  to-day 
than  when  they  were  uttered  a  generation  ago.  It  is  a  just 
reproach  to  a  nation  of  nearly  sixty  million  freemen,  rich 
and  powerful  beyond  any  other  people  on  the  globe,  that  the 
memory  of  NATHAN  HALE,  their  self-sacrificing  benefactor 
in  purpose,  and  a  true  and  noble  martyr  in  the  cause  of  the 
liberty  they  enjoy,  has  been,  until  lately,  absolutely  neglected 
by  them  ;  that  no  "  monody,  eulogy,  monument  of  marble  or 
of  brass,"  dedicated  to  him  by  the  public  voice,  appears  any 
where  in  our  broad  land.  But  there  are  now  abundant 
promises  that  this  reproach  will  be  speedily  removed.  An 
earnest  effort  was  begun  by  the  "  Daily  Telegraph,"  a  morn 
ing  journal  of  New  York  city,  late  in  1885,  to  procure  funds 
by  half-dime  or  "  nickel "  subscriptions,  sufficient  to  erect  a 
suitable  monument  to  the  memory  of  NATHAN  HALE,  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  where  he  suffered  martyrdom.  There  is 
also  a  project  on  foot  for  the  erection  of  a  statue  of  Hale  in 
the  Connecticut  State  Capitol  at  Hartford.  For  this  pur 
pose  the  State  of  Connecticut  has  appropriated  five  thou 
sand  dollars. 

Let  the  conscience  of  our  people,  inspired  by  gratitude 
and  patriotism,  be  fairly  awakened  to  the  propriety  of  the 


34  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

undertaking,  and  funds  will  speedily  be  forthcoming  suffi 
cient  to  erect  a  magnificent  monument  in  memory  of 
NATHAN  HALE,  in  the  city  where  he  died  for  his  country. 
I  recommend,  as  a  portion  of  the  inscription  upon  the  monu 
ment,  the  subjoined  epitaph,  written  fully  thirty  years  ago, 
by  George  Gibbs,  the  ripe  scholar  and  antiquary,  who  was  at 
one  time  the  librarian  of  the  New  York  Historical  Society:* 

STRANGER,    BENEATH   THIS   STONE 

LIES   THE   DUST   OF 

A   SPY, 
WHO   PERISHED    UPON   THE   GIBBET  ; 

YET 
THE  STORIED    MARBLES   OF   THE  GREAT, 

THE  SHRINES   OF  HEROES, 
ENTOMBED   NOT   ONE   MORE   WORTHY   OF 

HONOR 

THAN    HIM   WHO    HERE 
SLEEPS    HIS    LAST    SLEEP. 

NATIONS 
BOW   WITH    REVERENCE   BEFORE  THE  DUST 

OF   HIM    WHO    DIES 

A   GLORIOUS   DEATH, 

URGED   ON    BY  THE  SOUND   OF   THE 

TRUMPET 

AND   THE   SHOUTS   OF 

ADMIRING   THOUSANDS. 

BUT   WHAT    REVERENCE,    WHAT   HONOR, 

IS   NOT   DUE  TO   ONE 

WHO    FOR  HIS   COUNTRY    ENCOUNTERED 

EVEN   AN    INFAMOUS    DEATH, 

SOOTHED     BY     NO     SYMPATHY, 

ANIMATED    BY  NO    PRAISE  ! 


*  A  statue  in  plaster,  modeled  from  a  description  of  Rale's  features  and  person, 
has  been  made  by  E.  S.  Wood,  sculptor.  It  represents  an  athletic  young  man,  with 
his  coat  and  vest  removed,  his  neck  and  upper  portion  of  his  chest  bared  by  the 
turning  down  of  the  collar  of  his  ruffled  shirt,  and  holding  in  his  right  hand,  which 
is  resting  upon  his  hip,  the  rope  with  which  he  is  about  to  be  suspended  from  the 
tree.  The  face  of  the  martyr  is  an  excellent  ideal  of  the  character  of  the  young 
hero. 


JOHN    ANDRfi, 


r^yjf'  r 

m  '  ' 


JOHN    ANDRE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  is  not  known  whether  the  place  of  JOHN  ANDRE'S  na 
tivity  was  in  London  or  elsewhere  in  England.  His  father 
was  a  Switzer,  born  in  Geneva.  He  was  a  merchant  in 
London,  where  he  married  a  pretty  French  maiden  named 
Girardot,  a  native  of  that  city,  who  in  the  year  1751  be 
came  the  mother  of  the  famous  British  spy. 

Of  Andre's  childhood  and  early  youth  very  little  is 
known,  even  of  the  scenes  of  his  primary  education.  Later, 
we  find  him  at  the  University  in  Geneva  ;  and,  when  he 
was  approaching  young  manhood,  he  was  distinguished  for 
many  accomplishments  and  solid  acquirements.  He  had 
mastered  several  European  languages,  and  was  an  expert 
mathematician.  He  was  versed  in  military  science,  and  had 
a  wide  acquaintance  with  belles-lettres  literature.  He  was  an 
adept  in  music,  dancing,  and  the  arts  of  design,  and  was  spe 
cially  commended  for  his  military  drawings. 

Andre  had  a  taste  and  a  desire  for  military  life  ;  but, 
before  he  was  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  was  called  home 
to  take  a  place  in  his  father's  counting-room.  At  that  time 
his  family  lived  at  the  Manor  House,  Clapton,  where  his 
father  died  in  the  spring  of  1769.  The  family  then  consisted 
of  the  widow,  two  sons,  and  three  daughters.  Of  these  John 
was  the  oldest  and  Anna  was  the  youngest — the  "  tuneful 


38  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

Anna,"  as  Miss  Seward  calls  her  in  her  "  Monody,"  because 
of  her  poetic  genius. 

John,  though  so  young,  was  now  a  chief  manager  of  his 
father's  business  and  the  head  of  his  mother's  household. 
The  summer  of  1769  was  spent  by  the  family  at  little  vil 
lages  in  the  interior  of  England,  in  the  picturesque  region 
of  Lichfield,  a  famous  cathedral  town,  in  which  Dr.  Johnson 
was  born,  and  at  its  grammar-school  he  and  Addison  and 
Garrick  received  their  earlier  education. 

In  that  delightful  neighborhood  young  Andre  formed  an 
acquaintance  with  Miss  Anna  Seward,  the  bright  and  charm 
ing  daughter  of  Rev.  Thomas  Seward,  canon -resident  of 
Lichfield  Cathedral,  who  lived  in  the  bishop's  palace.  His 
daughter,  then  twenty-two  years  of  age,  was  already  distin 
guished  as  a  poet.  Her  home  was  the  gathering-place  of 
the  local  literary  celebrities  of  that  day — Dr.  Erasmus  Dar 
win,  author  of  "  The  Botanic  Garden,"  and  grandfather 
of  the  champion  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  in  our  day  ; 
Thomas  Hayley,  author  of  "  The  Triumphs  of  Temper  "  ; 
Sir  Brooke  Boothby,  who  wrote  "  Fables  and  Satires "  ; 
Richard  Lovell  Edgeworth,  a  "gay  Lothario,"  with  some 
literary  pretensions ;  Thomas  Day,  an  eccentric  philosopher, 
who  wrote  the  story  of  "  Sandford  and  Merton,"  once  as 
popular  as  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  ;  the  blind  and  ill-humored 
Miss  Anna  Williams,  the  biographer  of  the  Emperor  Julian  ; 
and  other  residents  or  occasional  sojourners. 

Miss  Seward  was  the  central  figure  in  this  literary  circle. 
Her  personal  beauty,  vivacity,  wit,  and  charming  conver 
sational  powers,  were  very  fascinating.  Into  that  galaxy 
John  Andre  was  introduced  and  gave  it  additional  luster. 

The  young  London  merchant  also  became  acquainted 
with  another  maiden  near  his  own  age.  She  is  represented 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


39 


as  exceedingly  lovely  in  person  and  character.  Her  eyes 
were  blue,  her  hair  was  of  a  golden  color,  and  her  complex 
ion  was  brilliant,  heightened  in  its  charms,  perhaps,  by  a 
hectic  glow  upon  her  cheek— the  sad  prophecy  of  the  early 


HONORA  SNEYD. — (From  a  painting  by  Romney.)  * 

fading  of  youthful  beauty  and  of  life.  The  maiden  was 
Honora  Sneyd,  an  inmate  of  the  family  of  Canon  Seward, 
and  the  loved  companion  of  Anna. 

Andre  was  then    eighteen    years    of  age  ;    a  handsome, 
slender,  graceful,  and  vivacious  youth,  with  features  as  deli- 

*  In  a  letter  to  the  Right  Honorable  Lady  Butler,  dated  Lichfield,  June  4, 1798, 
Miss  Seward  speaks  of  the  picture  as  follows  :  "  Honora  Sneyd,  after  she  became 


40  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

cate  as  those  of  a  girl,  and  accomplished  beyond  most  young 
men  of  his  time.  He  was  five  feet  nine  inches  in  height, 
dark  complexion,  dark  eyes,  brown  hair,  with  a  somewhat 
serious  and  tender  expression.  His  manners  were  easy  and 
insinuating.  The  young  couple  fell  desperately  in  love  with 
each  other  at  their  first  meeting. 

Anna  was  delighted,  and  she  fostered  the  passion.  The 
lovers  were  betrothed  before  the  summer  was  over  ;  but 
"  Love's  young  dream  "  was  disturbed.  The  father  of  Miss 
Sneyd  and  the  mother  of  Andre  decided  that  both  were  too 
young  for  wedlock  then,  and  it  was  agreed  that  at  least  two 
years  should  intervene  between  betrothal  and  nuptials.  It 
was  also  deemed  proper  that  they  should  be  kept  apart  as 
much  as  possible  during  that  period,  in  order  to  test  the 
strength  and  reality  of  their  attachment,  and  for  other  pru 
dential  reasons. 

With  this  understanding  Andre  returned  to  his  desk 
in  London,  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  away.  He  had 
sketched  two  miniatures  of  Miss  Sneyd.  One  he  gave  to 
Anna  Seward,  the  other  he  placed  in  a  locket  and  carried 
it  in  his  bosom.  He  also  arranged  for  a  correspondence 
between  Miss  Seward  and  himself,  of  which  Honora  was  to 
be  the  chief  burden.  Three  of  these  letters  have  been  pre 
served,  and  are  printed  in  this  volume.  "  His  epistolary 
writings,"  says  Dr.  Sparks,  "  so  far  as  specimens  of  them 
have  been  preserved,  show  a  delicacy  of  sentiment,  a  play- 
Mrs.  Edgeworth,  sat  to  Smart,  at  that  time  a  celebrated  miniature-painter.  He 
totally  missed  the  likeness  which  Major  Andre  had,  from  his  then  inexperience  in 
the  art,  so  faintly  and  with  so  little  justice  to  her  beauty,  caught.  Romney  acci 
dentally,  and  without  ever  having  beheld  her,  produced  it  completely.  Yes,  he 
drew,  to  represent  the  Serena  of  the  '  Triumph  of  Temper,'  his  own  abstract  idea 
of  perfect  loveliness,  and  the  form  of  the  face  of  Honora  Sneyd  rose  beneath  his 
pencil."  Serena  is  represented  reading  by  candle-light. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  4I 

fulness  of  imagination,  and  an  ease  of  style,  which  could 
proceed  only  from  native  refinement  and  a  high  degree  of 
culture." 

Andre  had  an  aversion  to  mercantile  pursuits,  and  had 
told  his  Lichfield  friends  that  he  greatly  preferred  the  mill- 
tary  profession.  Miss  Seward  urged  him  to  stick  to  his 
desk,  as  the  only  sure  promise  of  a  competence  which  would 
enable  him  to  marry  Honora.  Her  persuasion  prevailed, 
and  he  resolved  to  remain  a  merchant,  for  a  time  at  least 
In  one  of  his  letters  to  her  he  wrote  : 

"  I  know  you  will  interest  yourself  in  my  destiny.  I  have 
now  completely  subdued  my  aversion  to  the  profession  of 
a  merchant,  and  hope,  in  time,  to  acquire  an  inclination  for 
it.  ...  When  an  impertinent  consciousness  whispers  in  my 
ear  that  I  am  not  of  the  right  stuff  for  a  merchant,  I  draw 
my  Honora's  picture  from  my  bosom,  and  the  sight  of  that 
dear  talisman  so  inspirits  my  industry  that  no  toil  seems 
oppressive." 

This  correspondence  was  kept  up  several  months,  but 
Andre's  suit  did  not  prosper.  Distance,  separation,  and 
various  circumstances  cooled  the  ardor  of  Miss  Sneyd's  love 
for  her  young  admirer,  and  correspondence  between  them 
ceased.  She  had  other  suitors  ;  and,  in  1773,  she  mar 
ried  Richard  Lovell  Edge  worth,  a  gay  young  widower  of 
twenty-five,  who  possessed  a  handsome  fortune  in  the  form 
of  a  fine  estate  in  Ireland.  Honora  became  the  mother  of 
Maria  Edgeworth,  the  novelist.  She  died  of  consumption 
a  few  years  afterward.  In  compliance  with  her  dying  re 
quest,  her  husband  married  her  sister  Elizabeth  for  his  third 
wife. 

Andre  remained   faithful  to  his   first    love,  and  carried 
Honora's  miniature  in  his  bosom  until  he  died.     He  aban- 


42  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

doned  the  mercantile  business  in  1771,  joined  the  royal  army 
with  the  commission  of  lieutenant  in  1772,  and  went  over  to 
Germany.  He  joined  his  regiment  —  the  Royal  English 
Fusileers — in  Canada,  late  in  1774,  having  made  a  farewell 
visit  to  his  stanch  friend  Miss  Seward  before  he  sailed  for 
America.  During  that  visit  a  singular  circumstance  oc 
curred.  Miss  Seward  took  Andre  a  little  distance  from 
Lichfield  to  call  upon  two  literary  friends,  Mr.  Cunning 
ham,  and  a  curate,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Newton.  She  had  apprised 
them  of  the  intended  visit. 

Mr.  Cunningham  afterward  related  to  Miss  Seward  a  sin 
gular  dream  he  had  on  the  night  before  this  visit.  He  was 
in  a  great  forest.  A  horseman  approached  at  full  speed.  As 
he  drew  near,  three  men  suddenly  sprang  from  their  conceal 
ment  in  bushes,  seized  the  rider,  and  took  him  away.  The 
appearance  of  the  captive's  face  was  deeply  impressed  upon 
the  dreamer's  memory.  He  awoke,  fell  asleep  again,  and 
dreamed.  He  was  now  in  a  vast  crowd  of  people,  near  a 
great  city.  The  man  whom  he  saw  captured  in  the  forest 
was  now  brought  forth  and  hanged.  This  dream  was  related 
to  the  curate  the  next  morning,  and  when,  a  while  afterward, 
Miss  Seward  with  her  friend  arrived,  Mr.  Cunningham  rec 
ognized  in  Andre  the  person  he  saw  captured  and  hanged. 

Other  presaging  visions  concerning  Andre's  fate  have 
been  related,  some  of  them  being  undoubtedly  pure  fiction. 
For  example :  Soon  after  the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia  by 
the  British  in  1778,  and  the  Americans  had  taken  posses 
sion  of  the  city,  some  of  the  Continental  officers  gave  a 
dinner-party  to  Washington  at  a  spacious  mansion  in  the 
suburbs,  once  belonging  to  one  of  the  Penn  family.  At  that 
banquet  were  two  ladies  who  had  known  Major  Andre  dur 
ing  the  British  occupation,  and  had  dined  with  him  at  this 


JOHN  ANDRE.  43 

Penn  mansion.  As  they  were  passing  through  a  grove  near 
the  house  on  that  occasion,  they  both  saw  at  the  same  mo 
ment  the  body  of  a  man  suspended  from  a  limb,  and  recog 
nized  his  features  as  those  of  Andre.  They  spoke  of  the 
vision  at  the  table,  and  were  laughed  at ;  even  Washington 
joining  in  the  merriment.  This  ghost-story  may  be  thus 
disposed  of :  Washington  was  not  in  Philadelphia  at  any 
time  in  the  year  1778.  At  the  time  above  mentioned  he  was 
chasing  Sir  Henry  Clinton  across  New  Jersey. 

The  following  account  appears  to  be  well  authenticated  : 
A  feminine  friend  of  Miss  Mary  Hannah,  a  sister  of  Andre, 
shared  a  bed  with  her  one  night  at  about  the  time  of  her 
brother's  execution.  The  friend  was  awakened  by  the  loud 
sobs  of  Miss  Andre,  who  said  she  had  seen  her  brother  made 
a  prisoner.  Her  friend  soothed  her  into  quiet,  and  both  fell 
asleep.  Soon  Miss  Andre  again  awoke  her  friend,  and  said 
she  had  again  seen  her  brother  on  trial  as  a  spy.  She  de 
scribed  the  scene  with  great  particularity.  Again  she  was 
quieted,  and  both  fell  asleep.  Again  she  aroused  her  friend 
by  screaming,  "  They  are  hanging  him  !  "  They  both  made 
a  memorandum  of  the  affair.  The  next  mail  brought  the  sad 
news  of  Andre's  execution  at  about  the  time  when  his  sister, 
Mary  Hannah,  saw  him  in  her  vision. 

Lieutenant  Andre  journeyed  from  England  to  Quebec, 
by  way  of  Philadelphia.  Why  did  he  take  this  roundabout 
course?  He  arrived  at  Philadelphia  in  September  (1774), 
just  after  the  first  Continental  Congress  began  its  session 
there.  His  abilities  as  a  keen  observer  of  men  and  things 
were  well  known  to  General  Carleton,  the  Governor  of 
Canada,  who  arrived  at  Quebec  from  England  while  Andre 
was  in  Philadelphia.  May  not  that  astute  officer  have  di 
rected  Andre,  before  he  left  England,  to  go  to  Philadelphia 


44 


THE   TWO   SPIES. 


as  a  spy,  to  learn  what  he  could  of  the  condition  of  public 
affairs,  and  the  temper  of  the  people  in  the  disturbed  colo 
nies,  and  especially  the  designs  of  the  Continental  Congress? 
From  Philadelphia  he  went  to  New  York  and  Boston,  and 
thence  by  water  to  Quebec,  everywhere  traveling,  without 
recognition,  in  citizen's  dress.  He  undoubtedly  carried  to 
Carleton  much  valuable  information  which  that  wide-awake 
officer  desired  to  know.  Andre  arrived  at  Quebec  early  in 
November. 

A  year  later  Lieutenant  Andre  was  made  a  prisoner  of 
war  when  Montgomery  captured  the  fort  at  St.  Johns,  on 
the  Sorel.  "  I  have  been  taken  a  prisoner  by  the  Americans," 
Andre  wrote  to  Miss  Seward,  "  and  stripped  of  everything 
except  the  picture  of  Honora,  which  I  concealed  in  my 
mouth.  Preserving  this,  I  yet  think  myself  fortunate."  He 
and  his  fellow-prisoners  were  taken  first  to  Connecticut,  and 
then  to  Lancaster  and  Carlisle  in  Pennsylvania.  There  he 
made  many  friends  by  his  urbanity,  his  refined  tastes,  and 
his  accomplishments.  He  taught  the  children  of  citizens 
the  art  of  drawing  in  a  free  and  easy  style  ;  and  he  was  a 
welcome  guest  in  the  higher  social  circles,  was  made  a  par 
ticipant  in  all  their  pleasure-parties,  and  so  added  to  their 
own  enjoyments. 

Toward  the  close  of  1776  Andre  was  exchanged  and 
joined  the  British  army  in  New  York,  then  commanded  by 
General  Howe.  To  that  officer  he  presented  a  memoir  on 
the  existing  war,  which  was  very  favorably  received.  He  had 
kept  a  journal  ever  since  he  came  to  America,  in  which  both 
pen  and  pencil  were  jointly  employed  in  the  delineation  and 
description  of  everything  of  interest  which  came  under  his 
observation,  and  this  furnished  him  with  much  material  for 
his  memoir.  Howe  was  delighted  with  his  young  soldier. 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


and  as  soon  as  a  vacancy  occurred  he  gave  him  the  position 
of  aide  on  the  staff  of  General  Grey,  with  the  rank  of  cap 
tain.  He  was  now  fairly  in  the  line  of  promotion  which  his 
signal  abilities  entitled  him  to  receive. 

Andre  served  with  distinction  as  a  staff-officer.  He  was 
the  soul  of  the  military  social  circle  during  the  occupation 
of  Philadelphia  by  the  British  army  in  the  winter  and  spring 
of  1778.  His  pen,  his  pencil,  and  his  brush,  were  continually 
busy  in  satirizing  and  caricaturing  the  "  rebel  "  officers,  or 
in  dramatic  exhibitions.  He  was  a  leader  in  all  the  social 
amusements  of  the  army,  the  chief  of  which  were  theatrical 
performances.  In  these  Andre  was  dramatist,  actor,  song 
writer,  and  manager.  He  wrote  prologues  and  localized 
plays,  and  was  the  chief  manager  of  weekly  balls.  In  a 
word,  he  was  leader  in  setting  on  foot  scenes  of  gayety  and 
extravagance  that  were  long  remembered  and  lamented. 
Andre  occupied  the  house  of  Dr.  Franklin  for  several 
months.  He  carried  away  some  valuable  books. 

Many  of  the  young  officers  were  scions  of  the  British 
nobility,  and  possessed  ample  means  for  the  gratification  of 
any  desire.  The  infection  of  demoralization  that  spread 
through  the  army  and  society  was  fearful.  The  army  suf 
fered  much.  Dr.  Franklin  said,  "  Howe  did  not  take  Phila 
delphia—Philadelphia  took  Howe."  Cupid  scattered  his 
darts  so  widely  and  with  such  effect  among  the  soldiers, 
that  in  the  flight  of  the  British  army  across  New  Jersey,  on 
the  evacuation  of  Philadelphia,  fully  six  hundred  soldiers 
deserted  and  returned  to  their  sweethearts  and  lately  mar 
ried  wives. 

Many  of  the  fair  daughters  of  the  Philadelphia  loyalists 
were  captivated  by  the  young  British  officers.  Among  the 
latter  was  not  one  more  fascinating  than  Major  Andre,  and 


46  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

no  one  was  more  welcome  into  the  best  society.  He  formed 
warm  friendships  with  several  leading  families  ;  among 
others,  that  of  Edward  Shippen,  one  of  the  wealthiest  and 
most  cultivated  citizens,  whose  youngest  daughter  married 
General  Benedict  Arnold. 

Late  in  May,  1778,  General  Howe  surrendered  the  com 
mand  of  the  army  into  the  hands  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and 
prepared  to  return  to  England.  The  officers  of  the  army, 
who  were  very  much  attached  to  him,  resolved  to  give  him 
a  spectacular  parting  entertainment  which  should  eclipse  in 
novelty  and  splendor  anything  ever  seen  in  America.  In  the 
conception  and  preparation  of  the  entertainment  the  genius 
of  Andre,  in  all  its  phases,  was  brought  into  requisition.  He 
designed  the  decorations,  the  costumes  to  be  worn,  even 
the  ticket  of  admission  to  the  show.  The  entertainment  was 
called  Mischianza — a  medley.  It  was  given  at  the  country- 
seat  of  Thomas  Wharton,  a  Philadelphia  Quaker — a  fine, 
stately  mansion,  with  spacious  grounds  around  it,  standing 
near  the  present  navy-yard. 


CHAPTER   II. 

IN  a  letter  to  his  friend  Miss  Seward,  dated  Philadelphia, 
May  23,  1778,  Major  Andre  gave  the  following  account  of 
the  great  ftte  in  honor  of  General  Howe  : 

"  That  our  sentiments  might  be  the  more  unreservedly 
and  unequivocally  known,  it  was  resolved  among  us  that 
we  should  give  him  as  splendid  an  entertainment  as  the 
shortness  of  the  time  and  our  present  situation  would  allow 
us.  For  the  expenses  the  whole  army  would  most  cheer 
fully  have  contributed  ;  but  it  was  requisite  to  draw  the 


JOHN  ANDRE.  4; 

line  somewhere,  and  twenty-two  field-officers  joined  in  a 
subscription  adequate  to  a  plan  they  meant  to  adopt.  I 
know  your  curiosity  will  be  raised  on  this  occasion  ;  I  shall, 
therefore,  give  you  as  particular  an  account  of  our  Mischi- 
anza*  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect. 

"  From  the  name  you  will  perceive  that  it  was  made  up 
from  a  variety  of  entertainments.  Four  of  the  gentlemen 
subscribers  were  appointed  managers — Sir  John  Wrottesley, 
Colonel  O'Hara,  Major  Gardiner,  and  Montressor,  the  chief 


THE  MISCHIANZA  TICKET. — (Drawn  by  Major  Andre.)  t 

engineer.  On  the  tickets  of  admission  which  they  gave  out 
for  Monday,  the  i8th,  was  engraved,  in  a  shield,  a  view 
of  the  sea,  with  the  setting  sun,  and  in  a  wreath  the  words 

*  This  account  was  printed  in  the  "  Lady's  Magazine,"  with  which  Miss  Seward 
had  a  literary  connection,  in  August,  1778. 
f  This  is  one  half  the  size  of  the  original. 


48 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


1  Luceo  discedens,  aucto  splendor e  resurgam"  At  top  was  the 
general's  crest,  with  'vive!  vale!  '  All  round  the  shield  ran  a 
vignette,  and  various  military  trophies  filled  up  the  ground.* 
"  A  grand  regatta  began  the  entertainment.  It  consisted 
of  three  divisions.  In  the  first  place  was  the  Ferret  galley, 
having  on  board  several  general  officers  and  a  number  of 
ladies.  In  the  center  was  the  Hussar  gal 
ley,  with  Sir  William  and  Lord  Howe, 
Sir  Henry  Clinton,  the  officers  of  their 
suite,  and  some  ladies.  The  Cornwallis 
galley  brought  up  the  rear,  having  on 
board  General  Knyphausen  and  his 
suite,  the  British  generals,  and  a  party 
of  ladies.  On  each  quarter  of  these  gal 
leys,  and  forming  their  division,  were 
five  flat-boats,  lined  with  green  cloth, 
and  filled  with  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
In  front  of  the  whole  were  three  flat- 
boats,  with  a  band  of  music  in  each. 
Six  barges  rowed  about  each  flank,  to 
keep  off  the  swarm  of  boats  that  cov 
ered  the  river  from  side  to  side.  The 
galleys  were  dressed  out  in  a  variety  of  colors  and  streamers, 
and  on  each  flat-boat  was  displayed  the  flag  of  its  own  divis 
ion.  In  the  stream  opposite  the  center  of  the  city  the  Fanny, 


LADY'S  HEAD-DRESS. 
(Drawn  by  Major  Andre.) 


*  I  copied  this  ticket  from  one  of  the  originals  in  the  Franklin  Library,  at  Phila 
delphia,  in  1848.  It  is  attached,  with  drawings  of  a  head-dress  for  the  Mischianza, 
and  a  portrait  of  Captain  Cathcart,  a  son  of  Lord  Cathcart,  to  his  manuscript 
"Annals  of  Philadelphia,"  deposited  with  this  institution  by  the  late  John  F. 
Watson,  Esq.  The  designs  for  the  ticket  and  the  other  sketches  were  made  by 
Andre  ;  and  a  silhouette  of  Sir  John  Wrottesley,  one  of  the  managers,  was  cut  by 
Andre".  They  were  presented  to  Mr.  Watson  by  Miss  Craig,  a  participant  in  the 
fete.  She  was  the  chosen  lady  of  the  Second  Knight  of  the  Blended  Rose.  An 
dre's  drawings  for  the  costumes  of  the  Ladies  of  the  Blended  Rose  and  Burning 


JOHN  ANDRE.  4 

armed  ship,  magnificently  decorated,  was  placed  at  anchor  ; 
and  at  some  distance  ahead  lay  his  Majesty's  ship  Roebuck, 
with  the  admiral's  flag  hoisted  at  the  foretopmast-head.  The 
transport  ships,  extending  in  a  line  the  whole  length  of  the 
town,  appeared  with  colors  flying  and  crowded  with  spec 
tators,  as  were  also  the  openings  of  the  several  wharves  on 
the  shore,  exhibiting  the  most  picturesque  and  enlivening 
scene  the  eye  could  desire.  The  rendezvous  was  at  Knight's 
wharf,  at  the  north  end  of  the  city."* 

After  giving  an  account  of  the  aquatic  procession  down 
the  river,  Andre  continues  : 

"  The  landing-place  was  the  Old  Fort,  a  little  to  the  south- 
ward  of  the  town,f  fronting  the  building  prepared  for  the 
reception  of  the  company,  about  four  hundred  yards  from 
the  water  by  a  gentle  ascent.    As  soon  as  the  general's  barge 
was  seen  to  push  for  the  shore,  a  salute  of  seventeen  guns 
was  fired  from  the  Roebuck,  and,  after  some  interval,  by  the 
same  number  by  the  Vigilant.     The  company,  as  they  dis 
embarked,  arranged   themselves  into  a  line  of  procession, 
and  advanced  through  an  avenue  formed  by  the  two  files 
of  grenadiers,  and  a  line  of  light  horse  supporting  each  file. 
This  avenue  led  to  a  square  lawn  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  on  each  side,  lined  with  troops,  and  properly  prepared 
for  the  exhibition  of  a  tilt  and  tournament,  according  to  the 
customs  and  ordinances  of  ancient  chivalry0     We  proceeded 

Mountain  are  preserved.  The  form  was  a  polonaise,  or  a  flowing  robe  of  white 
silk,  with  a  spangled  pink  sash  and  spangled  shoes  and  stockings  ;  a  veil  spangled 
and  trimmed  with  silver  lace,  and  a  towering  head-dress  of  pearls  and  jewels.  The 
Ladies  of  the  Burning  Mountain  had  their  polonaises  and  white  sashes  bound  with 
black.  The  engraving  shows  the  style  of  the  head-dress,  copied  from  Andre's 
drawing. 

*  A  little  above  Vine  Street. 

t  A  little  below  the  present  navy-yard. 


50  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

through  the  center  of  the  square.  The  music,  consisting  of 
all  the  bands  of  the  army,  moved  in  front.  The  managers, 
with  favors  of  white  and  blue  ribbons  on  their  breasts,  fol 
lowed  next  in  order.  The  general,  admiral,  and  the  rest  of 
the  company,  succeeded  promiscuously. 

"  In  front  of  the  building,  bounding  the  view  through  a 
vista  formed  by  two  triumphal  arches,  erected  at  proper 
intervals  in  a  line  with  the  landing-place,  two  pavilions, 
with  rows  of  benches  rising  one  above  another,  and  serving 
as  the  wings  of  the  first  triumphal  arch,  received  the  ladies, 
while  the  gentlemen  ranged  themselves  in  convenient  order 
on  each  side.  On  the  front  seat  of  each  pavilion  were  placed 
seven  of  the  principal  young  ladies  of  the  country,  dressed 
in  Turkish  habits,  and  wearing  on  their  turbans  the  favors 
with  which  they  meant  to  reward  the  several  knights  who 
were  to  contend  in  their  honor.  These  arrangements  were 
scarcely  made,  when  the  sound  of  trumpets  was  heard  at  a 
distance ;  and  a  band  of  knights,  dressed  in  ancient  habits 
of  white  and  red  silk,  and  mounted  on  gray  horses,  richly 
caparisoned  in  trappings  of  the  same  colors,  entered  the 
lists,  attended  by  their  esquires  on  foot,  in  suitable  apparel, 
in  the  following  order  : 

"  Four  trumpeters,  properly  habited,  their  trumpets  dec 
orated  with  small  pendent  banners.  A  herald  in  his  robes  of 
ceremony  ;  on  his  tunic  was  the  device  of  his  band,  two  roses 
intertwined,  with  the  motto — '  We  droop  when  separated' 

"  Lord  Cathcart,  superbly  mounted  on  a  managed  horse, 
appeared  as  chief  of  these  knights ;  two  young  black  slaves, 
with  sashes  and  drawers  of  blue  and  white  silk,  wearing 
large  silver  clasps  round  their  necks  and  arms,  their 'breasts 
and  shoulders  bare,  held  his  stirrups.  On  his  right  hand 
walked  Captain  Harard,  and  on  his  left  Captain  Brownlow, 


JOHN  ANDRE.  r  x 

and  his  two  esquires,  the  one  bearing  his  lance,  the  other  his 
shield.     His  device  was  Cupid  riding  on  a  lion  ;  the  motto 
-'  Surmounted  by  Love:     His  lordship  appeared  in  honor  o± 
Miss  Auchmuty.* 

;<  Then  came  in  order  the  knights  of  his  band,  each  at 
tended  by  his  'squire,  bearing  his  lance  and  shield. 

"  First  knight,  Hon.  Captain  Cathcart,f  in  honor  of  Miss 
N.  White.— 'Squire,  Captain  Peters.— Device,  a  heart  and 
sword  ;  motto — '  Love  and  Honor! 

"  Second  knight,  Lieutenant  Bygrove,  in  honor  of  Miss 
Craig.— 'Squire,  Lieutenant  Nichols.— Device,  Cupid  tracing 
a  circle  ;  motto—'  Without  End: 

'Third  knight,  Captain  Andre,  in  honor  of  Miss  P. 
Chew.J— 'Squire,  Lieutenant  Andre.*— Device,  two  game 
cocks  fighting  ;  motto— l  No  rival: 

"  Fourth  knight,  Captain  Horneck,  in  honor  of  Miss  N. 
Redmond.— 'Squire,  Lieutenant  Talbot— Device,  a  burning 
heart ;  motto — '  Absence  can  not  extinguish: 

*  Miss  Auchmuty  was  the  only  English  maiden  present.  She  was  about  to  be 
come  the  bride  of  Captain  Montressor,  the  chief  engineer.  Watson  says  there 
were  not  more  than  fifty  unmarried  American  ladies  present  ;  the  rest  were  all 
married. 

f  Captain  Cathcart,  the  son  of  Lord  Cathcart,  married  a  daughter  of  Andrew 
Eliot,  once  a  collector  of  customs  at  Philadelphia.  The  young  officer  had  been 
making  love  most  vehemently  to  Miss  Eliot  all  winter.  She  was  pretty,  lively,  and 
well  educated.  The  captain  wrote  her  many  letters,  avowing  his  love  for  her,  but 
much  of  his  conduct  seems  to  have  been  mere  coquetry.  Miss  Eliot  was  in  earnest, 
and  received  his  attentions  and  his  letters  as  genuine  tokens  of  his  love.  When  it 
became  evident  that  he  meant  to  deceive  her,  her  father  laid  his  letters  before  Sir 
Henry  Clinton,  of  whose  military  family  young  Cathcart  was  a  member.  Clinton 
advised  the  young  man  to  marry  Miss  Eliot.  Cathcart  wished  to  postpone  it  until 
the  end  of  the  war.  Clinton  told  him  he  had  gone  so  far  that  he  must  marry  her 
illy  or  leave  his  family.  They  were  married  in  April,  1779.  She  was  after 
ward  "  Lady  Cathcart,"  and  appeared  at  court  when  her  husband  became  an  earl. 

t  A  daughter  of  Chief-Justice  Chew. 

*  A  brother  of  Captain  Andre,  then  nineteen  years  of  age.    After  Andre's  death, 
lie  was  knighted  by  the  king. 


52 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


"  Fifth  knight,  Captain  Mathews,  in  honor  of  Miss  Bond. 
—'Squire,  Lieutenant  Hamilton.— Device,  a  winged  heart ; 
motto — '  Each  fair  by  turns' 

"  Sixth  knight,  Lieutenant  Sloper,  in  honor  of  Miss  M. 
Shippen*— 'Squire,  Lieutenant  Brown.— Device,  a  heart  and 
sword  ;  motto—'  Honor  and  t lie  fair.'  ' 


THE  JOUST  AT  THE  TOURNAMENT. 

After  they  had  made  the  circuit  of  the  square,  and  sa 
luted  the  ladies  as  they  passed  before  the  pavilion,  they 
ranged  themselves  in  a  line  with  that  in  which  were  the 

*  Afterward  the  wife  of  Benedict  Arnold. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  53 

ladies  of  their  device  ;  and  their  herald  (Mr.  Beaumont)  ad 
vancing  into  the  center  of  the  square,  after  a  flourish  of 
trumpets,  proclaimed  the  following  challenge  : 

"  The  Knights  of  the  Blended  Rose,  by  me,  their  herald, 
proclaim  and  assert  that  the  Ladies  of  the  Blended  Rose 
excel  in  wit,  beauty,  and  every  accomplishment,  those  of  the 
whole  world  ;  and  should  any  knight  or  knights  be  so  hardy 
as  to  dispute  or  deny  it,  they  are  ready  to  enter  the  lists  with 
them,  and  maintain  their  assertions  by  deeds  of  arms,  accord 
ing  to  the  laws  of  ancient  chivalry." 

At  the  third  repetition  of  this  challenge,  the  sound  of 
trumpets  was  heard  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  square  ; 
and  another  herald,  with  four  trumpeters,  dressed  in  black- 
and-orange,  galloped  into  the  lists.  He  was  met  by  the 
Herald  of  the  Blended  Rose,  and,  after  a  short  parley,  they 
both  advanced  in  front  of  the  pavilions,  when  the  black  her 
ald  (Lieutenant  Moore)  ordered  his  trumpets  to  sound,  and 
thus  proclaimed  defiance  to  the  challenge  in  the  following 
words  : 

"  The  Knights  of  the  Burning  Mountain  present  them 
selves  here,  not  to  contest  by  words,  but  to  disprove  by 
deeds,  the  vainglorious  assertions  of  the  Knights  of  the 
Blended  Rose,  and  enter  these  lists  to  maintain  that  the 
Ladies  of  the  Burning  Mountain  are  not  excelled  in  beauty, 
virtue,  or  accomplishments,  by  any  in  the  universe." 

He  then  returned  to  the  part  of  the  barrier  through 
which  he  had  entered,  and  shortly  afterward  the  Black 
Knights,  attended  by  their  'squires,  rode  into  the  lists  in  the 
following  order  : 

"  Four  trumpeters  preceding  the  herald,  on  whose  tunic 
was  represented  a  mountain  sending  forth  flames  ;  motto — 
'  /  burn  forever' 


54  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

11  Captain  Watson,  of  the  Guards,  as  chief,  dressed  in  a 
magnificent  suit  of  black-and-orange  silk,  and  mounted  on  a 
black  managed  horse,  with  trappings  of  the  same  color  with 
his  own  dress,  appeared  in  honor  of  Miss  Franks.  He  was 
attended  in  the  same  manner  with  Lord  Cathcart.  Captain 
Scott  bore  his  lance  and  Lieutenant  Lytton  his  shield.  The 
device,  a  heart,  with  a  wreath  of  flowers  ;  motto — '  Love  and 
glory: 

"  First  knight,  Lieutenant  Underwood,  in  honor  of  Miss 
S.  Shippen. — 'Squire,  Ensign  Haserkam. — Device,  a  pelican 
feeding  her  young  ;  motto — '  For  those  I  love' 

"  Second  knight,  Lieutenant  Wingard,  in  honor  of  Miss 
R.  P.  Shippen. — 'Squire,  Captain  Boscawen. — Device,  a  bay- 
leaf  ;  motto — '  Unchangeable' 

"  Third  knight,  Lieutenant  Deleval,  in  honor  of  Miss  B. 
Bond. — 'Squire,  Captain  Thome. — Device,  a  heart,  aimed  at 
by  several  arrows,  and  struck  by  one  ;  motto — *  Only  one 
pierces  me? 

"  Fourth  knight,  Monsieur  Montluissent  (Lieutenant  of 
the  Hessian  Chasseurs),  in  honor  of  Miss  B.  Redman. — 
'Squire,  Captain  Campbell.  —  Device,  a  sunflower  turning 
toward  the  sun  ;  motto — '  Je  vise  a  vous? 

"  Fifth  knight,  Lieutenant  Hobart,  in  honor  of  Miss  S. 
Chew. — 'Squire,  Lieutenant  Briscoe. — Device,  Cupid  pierc 
ing  a  coat-of-mail  with  his  arrow  ;  motto — '  Proof  to  all  but 
love? 

"  Sixth  knight,  Brigade-Major  Tarleton,  in  honor  of  Miss 
W.  Smith. — 'Squire,  Captain  Heart. — Device,  a  light  dra 
goon  ;  motto — '  Swift,  vigilant,  and  bold? 

"  After  they  had  rode  round  the  lists,  and  made  their 
obeisance  to  the  ladies,  they  drew  up,  fronting  the  White 
Knights  ;  and  the  chief  of  them  having  thrown  down  his 


JOHN  ANDRE.  55 

gauntlet,  the  Chief  of  the  Black  Knights  directed  his  esquire 
to  take  it  up.  The  knights  then  received  their  lances  from 
their  esquires,  fixed  their  shields  on  their  left  arms,  and,  mak 
ing  a  general  salute  to  each  other  by  a  very  graceful  move 
ment  of  their  lances,  turned  round  to  take  their  career,  and, 
encountering  in  full  gallop,  shivered  their  spears.  In  the 
second  and  third  encounter  they  discharged  their  pistols. 
In  the  fourth  they  fought  with  swords.  At  length  the  two 
chiefs,  spurring  forward  into  the  center,  engaged  furiously  in 
single  combat,  till  the  marshal  of  the  field  (Major  Gwyne) 
rushed  in  between  the  chiefs  and  declared  that  the  Fair 
Damsels  of  the  Blended  Rose  and  Burning  Mountain  were 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  proofs  of  love  and  the  signal 
feats  of  valor  given  by  their  respective  knights ;  and  com 
manded  them,  as  they  prized  the  future  favors  of  their  mis 
tresses,  that  they  would  instantly  desist  from  further  combat. 
Obedience  being  paid  by  the  chiefs  to  the  order,  they  joined 
their  respective  bands.  The  White  Knights  and  their  at 
tendants  filed  off  to  the  left,  the  Black  Knights  to  the  right, 
and,  after  passing  each  other  at  the  lower  side  of  the  quad 
rangle,  moved  up  alternately  till  they  approached  the  pavil 
ion  of  the  ladies,  where  they  gave  a  general  salute. 

"  A  passage  being  now  opened  between  the  pavilions,  the 
knights,  preceded  by  their  'squires  and  the  bands  of  music, 
rode  through  the  first  triumphal  arch  and  arranged  them 
selves  to  the  right  and  left.  This  arch  was  erected  in  honor 
of  Lord  Howe.  It  presented  two  fronts,  in  the  Tuscan  or 
der  ;  the  pediment  was  adorned  with  various  naval  trophies, 
and  at  the  top  was  a  figure  of  Neptune,  with  a  trident  in  his 
right  hand.  In  a  niche  on  each  side  stood  a  sailor  with  a 
drawn  cutlass.  Three  plumes  of  feathers  were  placed  on 
the  summit  of  each  wing,  and  on  the  entablature  was  this 


56  THE    TWO  SPIES. 

inscription  :  '  Laus  illi  debetur,  et  a  me  gratia  major'  The 
interval  between  the  two  arches  was  an  avenue  three  hun 
dred  feet  long  and  thirty-four  broad.  It  was  lined  on  each 
side  with  a  file  of  troops ;  and  the  colors  of  all  the  army, 
planted  at  proper  distances,  had  a  beautiful  effect  in  diversi 
fying  the  scene. 

"  Between  these  colors  the  knights  and  'squires  took 
their  stations.  The  bands  continued  to  play  several  pieces 
of  martial  music.  The  company  moved  forward  in  pro 
cession,  with  the  ladies  in  the  Turkish  habits  in  front :  as 
these  passed  they  were  saluted  by  their  knights,  who  then 
dismounted  and  joined  them  ;  and  in  this  order  we  were  all 
conducted  into  a  garden  that  fronted  the  house,  through  the 
second  triumphal  arch  dedicated  to  the  general.  This  arch 
was  also  built  in  the  Tuscan  order.  On  the  interior  part  of 
the  pediment  were  painted  a  Plume  of  Feathers  and  various 
military  trophies.  At  the  top  stood  the  figure  of  Fame,  and 
on  the  entablature  these  words — *  /,  bone,  quo  virtuo  tua  le 
vocet ;  I pede  fausto!  On  the  right-hand  pillar  was  placed  a 
bomb-shell,  and  on  the  left  a  flaming  heart.  The  front  next 
the  house  was  adorned  with  preparations  for  a  fire-work. 

"  From  the  garden  we  ascended  a  flight  of  steps  covered 
with  carpets,  which  led  into  a  spacious  hall  ;  the  panels, 
painted  in  imitation  of  Sienna  marble,*  inclosing  portions 
of  white  marble ;  the  surbase  and  all  below  were  black.  In 
this  hall,  and  in  the  adjoining  apartments,  were  prepared 
tea,  lemonade,  and  other  cooling  liquors,  to  which  the  com- 

*  The  painting  was  done  in  distemper  upon  canvas,  in  the  manner  of  theatrical 
scene-painting.  Andre  was  assisted  in  his  art-work  by  Captain  Oliver  De  Lancey, 
of  New  York,  an  energetic  leader  of  loyalists.  He  married  a  daughter  of  David 
Franks.  She  was  active  in  the  Mischianza  affair.  Her  sister  married  Colonel 
Johnson,  of  the  British  army,  who  was  in  command  at  Stony  Point,  on  the  Hudson, 
when  it  was  captured  by  General  Wayne  in  the  summer  of  1779. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  57 

pany  seated  themselves  ;  during  which  time  the  knights 
came  in,  and  on  the  knee  received  their  favors  from  their 
respective  ladies.  One  of  these  rooms  was  afterward  appro 
priated  to  the  use  of  the  Pharaoh  table.  As  you  entered  it 
you  saw,  in  a  panel  over  the  chimney,  a  cornucopia/  exuber 
antly  filled  with  flowers  of  the  richest  colors.  Over  the 
door,  as  you  went  out,  another  presented  itself,  shrunk,  re 
versed,  and  emptied. 

"  From  these  apartments  we  were  conducted  up  to  a  ball 
room,  decorated  in  a  light,  elegant  style  of  painting.  The 
.ground  was  a  pale  blue,  paneled  with  a  small  gold  bead,  and 
in  the  interior  filled  with  dropping  festoons  of  flowers  in 
their  natural  colors.  Below  the  surface  the  ground  was  of 
rose-pink,  with  drapery  festooned  in  blue.  These  decora 
tions  were  heightened  by  eighty-five  mirrors,  decked  with 
rose-pink  silk  ribbons  and  artificial  flowers ;  and  in  the  inter 
mediate  spaces  were  thirty-four  branches  with  wax-lights, 
ornamented  in  a  similar  manner.  On  the  same  floor  were 
four  drawing-rooms,  with  sideboards  of  refreshments,  deco 
rated  and  lighted  in  the  same  style  and  taste  as  the  ball 
room. 

"  The  ball  was  opened  by  the  knights  and  their  ladies, 
and  the  dances  continued  till  ten  o'clock,  when  the  windows 
were  thrown  open,  and  a  magnificent  bouquet  of  rockets  be 
gan  the  fire-works.  These  were  planned  by  Captain  Mon- 
tressor,  the  chief-engineer,  and  consisted  of  twenty  different 
exhibitions,  displayed  under  his  directions  with  the  happiest 
success  and  in  the  highest  style  of  beauty.  Toward  the  con 
clusion  the  interior  part  of  the  triumphal  arch  was  illumi 
nated  amid  an  uninterrupted  flight  of  rockets  and  bursting 
balloons.  The  military  trophies  on  each  side  assumed  a  va 
riety  of  transparent  colors.  The  shell  and  flaming  heart  on 


58  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

the  wings  sent  forth  Chinese  fountains,  succeded  by  fire, 
works.  Fame  appeared  at  the  top,  spangled  with  stars, 
and  from  her  trumpet  blowing  the  following  device  in 
letters  of  light  :  '  Les  lauriers  sont  immortels*  A  sauteur 
of  rockets  bursting  from  the  pediment  concluded  the  feu 
d'artifice. 

11  At  twelve  supper  was  announced,  and  large  folding- 
doors,  hitherto  artfully  concealed,  being  suddenly  thrown 
open,  discovered  a  magnificent  saloon  of  two  hundred  and 
ten  feet  by  forty,  and  twenty-two  in  height,  with  three  al 
coves  on  each  side,  which  served  for  sideboards.  The  ceil 
ing  was  the  segment  of  a  circle,  and  the  sides  were  painted 
of  a  light  straw-color,  with  vine-leaves  and  festoon-flowers, 
some  in  a  bright  and  some  in  a  darkish  green.  Fifty-six  large 
pier-glasses,  ornamented  with  green  silk,  artificial  flowers, 
and  ribbons  ;  a  hundred  branches  with  three  lights  in  each, 
trimmed  in  the  same  manner  as  the  mirrors  ;  eighteen  lus 
ters,  each  with  twenty-four  lights,  suspended  from  the  ceil 
ing,  and  ornamented  as  the  branches  ;  three  hundred  wax- 
tapers  disposed  along  the  supper-tables;  four  hundred  and 
thirty  covers;  twelve  hundred  dishes;  twenty- four  black 
slaves,  in  Oriental  dresses,  with  silver  collars  and  bracelets, 
ranged  in  two  lines  and  bending  to  the  ground  as  the  gen 
eral  and  admiral  approached  the  saloon — all  these,  forming 
together  the  most  brilliant  assemblage  of  gay  objects,  and 
appearing  at  once  as  we  entered  by  an  easy  ascent,  exhibited 
a  coup  d'ceil  beyond  description  magnificent. 

"  Toward  the  end  of  the  supper  the  Herald  of  the 
Blended  Rose,  in  his  habit  of  ceremony,  attended  by  his 
trumpeters,  entered  the  saloon,  and  proclaimed  the  king's 
health,  the  queen  and  royal  family,  the  army  and  navy,  with 
their  respective  commanders,  the  knights  and  their  ladies, 


JOHN  ANDRE.  59 

and  the  ladies  in  general.  Each  of  these  toasts  was  fol« 
lowed  by  a  flourish  of  music.  After  supper  we  returned 
to  the  ball-room  and  continued  to  dance  until  four  o'clock/9 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  Mischianza  was  severely  criticised  in  Great  Britain 
and  America,  as  an  undeserved  compliment  to  an  incom 
petent  officer.  Howe  was  an  indolent  procrastinator,  and 
fond  of  sensual  indulgence  ;  and  he  had  not  only  effected 
nothing  of  importance  for  his  country  in  America,  but  had 
hindered  more  competent  men.  He  was  charged  by  Gal 
loway,  a  Philadelphia  Tory  then  in  London,  with  "  a  vanity 
and  presumption  unparalleled  in  history,  after  his  indolence 
and  wretched  blunders,"  in  accepting  from  a  few  officers  "a 
triumph  more  magnificent  than  would  have  become  the  con 
queror  of  America,  without  the  consent  of  his  sovereign  or 
approbation  of  his  country." 

It  is  asserted  that  at  Philadelphia  Howe  was  openly 
licentious,  kept  a  mistress,  loved  his  bottle  inordinately,  and 
engaged  secretly  in  business  transactions  for  his  own  gain, 
similar  to  those  with  which  Benedict  Arnold  was  charged, 
and  caused  him  to  be  reprimanded  by  order  of  Congress. 
Horace  Walpole  said,  "  He  returned  to  England  richer  in 
money  than  in  laurels."  Another  said,  "  The  only  bays  he 
possessed  were  those  that  drew  his  carriage  "  ;  and  still  an 
other,  that  "  he  has  given  America  to  the  Americans."  And 
yet  staid  men,  as  well  as  romantic  enthusiasts  like  Andre,  did 
not  hesitate  to  award  him  honors  which  only  great  heroes 
and  most  virtuous  men  deserve.  Andre  even  wrote  a  ful 
some  poetic  address  to  be  read  to  Howe  during  the  fete. 


60  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

The  general  exercised  good  sense  by  forbidding  its  utter 
ance. 

The  extreme  folly  of  the  Mischianza,  under  the  peculiar 
circumstances,  was  deplored  by  sensible  men  in  and  out  of 
the  army.  When  an  old  British  major  of  artillery,  in  Phila 
delphia,  was  asked  by  a  young  person  what  was  the  distinc 
tion  between  the  "  Knights  of  the  Burning  Mountain  "  and 
the  "Knights  of  the  Blended  Rose,"  the  veteran  replied: 
"  The  '  Knights  of  the  Burning  Mountain '  are  torn-fools,  and 
the  '  Knights  of  the  Blended  Rose  '  are  damned  fools  !  I  know 
of  no  other  distinction  between  them."  The  old  soldier, 
though  a  Briton,  greatly  admired  Washington.  Placing  a 
hand  upon  each  knee,  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  deep  mortifica 
tion,  "  What  will  Washington  think  of  this?" 

Just  one  month  after  this  grand  show  at  Philadelphia,  a  far 
grander  and  more  important  spectacle  was  exhibited  at  that 
city.  It  was  -the  sudden  flight  of  the  whole  British  army  from 
the  town,  across  the  Delaware  and  over  New  Jersey,  eagerly 
pressing  toward  New  York  ;  also  the  speedy  entrance  of  Con 
tinental  troops  into  Philadelphia,  and  the  return  of  Congress. 

Sir  Henry  Clinton,  now  in  chief  command  of  the  British 
army,  was  making  preparations  for  a  vigorous  campaign, 
when  orders  came  from  the  ministers  to  evacuate  Phila 
delphia  at  once,  to  prevent  a  blockade  of  the  army  and  navy 
on  the  Delaware  by  a  French  fleet  under  D'Estaing,  then  on 
its  way  to  America.  Clinton  obeyed.  Washington,  with  his 
recuperated  army  at  Valley  Forge,  pursued  and  overtook 
the  fugitives  near  Monmouth  Court-House.  There,  on  a 
very  hot  Sunday  in  June  (28th),  a  sanguinary  but  indecisive 
battle  was  fought.  That  night  Clinton  secretly  stole  away 
with  his  whole  force  (while  the  wearied  Americans  slept  on 
their  arms),  and  escaped  to  New  York. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  6 1 

Lord  Howe  had  scarcely  left  the  Capes  of  the  Delaware, 
when  D'Estaing  appeared.  Howe  sailed  for  New  York, 
and  anchored  his  fleet  in  Raritan  Bay.  D'Estaing's  larger 
vessels  could  not  enter  the  shallow  waters  of  the  bay,  and 
sailed  away  for  Rhode  Island,  to  assist  American  troops  in 
expelling  the  British  from  that  domain.  A  storm  dispersed 
the  two  fleets.  The  attempt  at  expulsion  was  a  failure. 
Clinton  sailed  with  four  thousand  troops  to  strengthen  Brit 
ish  power  on  Rhode  Island.  Thence  he  sent  General  Grey 
on  a  marauding  expedition  to  New  Bedford  and  its  vicinity, 
Andre  accompanied  him,  and  afterward  wrote  an  amusing 
poem,  to  the  tune  of  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  entitled  "  Yankee 
Doodle's  Expedition  to  Rhode  Island."*  He  also  wrote  a 
poem,  in  eighteen  stanzas,  giving  an  amusing  account  of  a 
duel  between  Christopher  Gadsden,  of  South  Carolina,  and 
General  Robert  Howe,  of  the  Continental  army.  This  poem 
may  be  found  in  Sargent's  "  Life  and  Career  of  Major  An 
dre."  Other  poems,  evidently  from  Andre's  pen,  ridiculing 
the  "  rebels,"  frequently  appeared  in  Rivington's  "  Royal 
Gazette,"  until  the  tragedy  that  ended  his  life  in  the  fall 
of  1780. 

Late  in  1778  General  Grey  returned  to  England,  when 
Andre  took  the  position  of  aide  to  General  Clinton,  with 
the  rank  of  provincial  major.  He  evinced  such  eminent 
clerical  and  executive  ability  that  early  in  1779  he  was 
made  deputy  adjutant -general  of  the  British  forces  in 
America. 

The  city  of  New  York  continued  to  be  the  headquarters 
of  the  British  army  until  the  close  of  the  war.  Clinton  made 
his  quarters  at  No.  i  Broadway,  a  spacious  house,  with  a 

*  This  poem,  with  explanatory  notes,  may  be  found  in  Frank  Moore's  "  Ballads 
of  the  Revolution." 


62  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

garden  extending  to  the  Hudson  River.  He  also  occupied 
the  fine  Beekman  mansion  at  Turtle  Bay  as  a  summer  resi 
dence. 

The  British  officers  made  the  city  a  theatre  of  great 
gayety.  They  were  continually  engaged  in  every  kind  of 
amusement,  to  while  away  their  time  when  not  on  active 
duty.  In  these  amusements  Major  Andre  was  ever  con 
spicuous,  especially  in  dramatic  performances  ;  and  there  he 
freely  indulged  his  love  for  good-natured  satirical  writing. 
He  wrote  much  for  Rivington's  "  Gazette  "  in  prose  and 
verse — political  squibs,  satires,  and  lampoons — the  "  rebels  " 
and  their  doings  being  his  chief  theme. 

It  was  at  No.  i  Broadway  that  Andre  wrote  his  best- 
known  poem,  "  The  Cow-Chase,"  in  imitation  of  "  Chevy 
Chase."  There  he  also  wrote  his  most  elaborate  prose  com 
position,  "  A  Dream."  This  he  read  aloud  at  a  social  gath 
ering,  and  it  was  published  in  Rivington's  paper.  In  his 
position  on  Clinton's  staff  he  was  able  to  exercise  his  ever- 
kindly  disposition  toward  the  unfortunate,  and  never  left 
unimproved  an  opportunity  to  do  so. 

Major  Andre  was  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton  on  an  expe 
dition  up  the  Hudson  in  May,  1779,  when  the  British  capt 
ured  the  American  post  of  Stony  Point,  and  Fort  Lafayette, 
on  Verplanck's  Point,  opposite.  When  the  batteries  of  Fort 
Lafayette  were  silenced,  Andre  was  sent  to  receive  the  sur 
render  of  the  garrison  and  the  works.  A  few  weeks  later  he 
wrote  a  friendly  letter  to  Margaret  Shippen  (then  the  wife 
of  General  Benedict  Arnold),  in  whose  family  the  major  had 
been  a  great  favorite  while  in  Philadelphia.  The  letter 
was  dated  "  Headquarters,  New  York,  the  i6th  of  August, 
1779."  He  offered  to  do  some  "shopping "in  New  York 
for  Mrs.  Arnold,  saying  : 


JOHN  ANDRE.  63 

"  It  would  make  me  very  happy  to  become  useful  to  you 
here.  You  know  the  Mischianza  made  me  a  complete  mil 
liner.  Should  you  not  have  received  supplies  for  your  full 
est  equipment  for  that  department,  I  shall  be  glad  to  enter 
into  the  whole  detail  of  cap-wire,  needles,  gauze,  etc.,  and  to 
the  best  of  my  ability  render  you  in  these  trifles  services 
from  which  I  hope  you  would  infer  a  zeal  to  be  further  em 
ployed.  I  beg  you  would  present  my  best  respects  to  your 
sisters,  to  the  Miss  Chews,  and  to  Mrs.  Shippen  and  Mrs. 
Chew. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  with  the  greatest  regard, 
madam,  your  most  obedient  and  most  humble  servant, 

"JOHN  ANDRE." 

General  Arnold  had  been  made  military  governor  of 
Philadelphia  after  the  American  troops  and  Congress  repos 
sessed  it.  He  lived  most  extravagantly.  He  kept  a  coach- 
and-four,  with  a  coachman  in  livery  ;  gave  sumptuous  din 
ner  parties,  and  charmed  the  gayer  portion  of  Philadelphia 
society  by  his  princely  display.  He  was  keenly  watched 
by  men  who  knew  his  character  well,  or  envied  his  suc 
cess  as  a  soldier,  and  he  was  hated  by  persons  in  exalted 
positions  for  his  many  bad  qualities.  Among  the  latter  was 
General  Joseph  Reed,  then  President  of  the  Executive  Coun 
cil  of  Pennsylvania.  Early  in  1779  that  Council  submitted 
to  Congress  charges  against  Arnold  of  being  guilty  of  mal 
feasance  in  office.  Congress  referred  the  charges  to  a  com 
mittee  of  inquiry,  Avhose  report  exculpated  the  general  from 
all  criminality  in  the  matter  charged  against  him. 

Arnold  promptly  asked  Congress  to  investigate  the 
charges.  He  regarded  this  report  of  the  committee  as  a 
vindication  of  his  character  ;  but  he  immediately  urged 


64  THE  TWO  SPIES. 

Congress  to  act  speedily  upon  the  report.  Instead  of  doing 
so,  the  report  was  referred  to  a  joint  committee  of  Congress 
and  the  Executive  Council  of  Pennsylvania.  They  passed  a 
resolution  to  refer  some  of  the  charges  to  a  court-martial,  to 
be  appointed  by  Washington.  When  the  charges  were  so 
referred,  Arnold  was  indignant,  but  was  compelled  to  sub 
mit.  He  urged  prompt  action,  but  a  court-martial  to  try 
him  was  not  convened  until  December  following.  They 
gave  their  decision  on  the  26th  of  January,  1780.  The  ac 
cused  was  acquitted  of  several  of  the  charges,  and  of  "  all 
intentional  wrong  "  in  the  whole  matter  of  the  other  charges ; 
but  it  was  decided  that,  for  "  imprudent  and  improper  con 
duct,"  he  should  be  reprimanded  by  the  commander-in-chief. 
This  was  done  in  the  most  delicate  manner  by  Washington  ; 
but,  as  it  implied  a  stigma  upon  his  character,  Arnold  was 
exceedingly  indignant.  This  act  doubtless  stimulated  him 
in  his  treasonable  undertaking,  in  which  he  appears  to  have 
been  already  engaged  for  fully  nine  months.  Dr.  Sparks 
says  :  "  He  [Arnold]  had  already  made  secret  advances  to 
the  enemy  under  a  feigned  name,  intending  to  square  his 
conduct  according  to  circumstances  ;  and  prepared,  if  the 
court  decided  against  him,  to  seek  revenge  at  any  hazard." 

There  appears  to  be  clear  evidence  that  overtures  were 
first  made  by  the  other  side,  probably  by  Beverly  Robinson,* 
to  whom  is  attributed  a  letter  given  by  Marbois,  who  was 
attached  to  the  French  legation  at  Philadelphia. f  Be  that 
as  it  may,  it  is  known  that  correspondence  between  General 
Arnold  and  Sir  Henry  Clinton  began  so  early  as  the  spring 


*  Beverly  Robinson  was  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  a  son-in-law  of  Frederick  Phil- 
lipse,  proprietor  of  Phillipse  Manor  on  the  Hudson,  and  a  very  active  Tory. 

f  See  a  copy  of  this  letter  in  the  "  Life  and  Career  of  John  Andre,"  by  Win- 
throp  Sargent,  p.  447. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  6$ 

of  1779.  Arnold  wrote  in  a  disguised  hand,  and  under  the 
assumed  name  of  "  Gustavus."  The  tenor  of  the  correspond 
ence  was  of  a  commercial  character,  so  as  to  mislead  others. 
After  the  exchange  of  two  or  three  letters,  and  with  the 
impression  that  "  Gustavus  "  was  an  officer  of  high  rank  in 
the  American  army,  Clinton  committed  the  task  of  carry  ing 


FAC-SIMILE  OF  ARNOLD'S  DISGUISED  HANDWRITING. 

on  the  correspondence  to  Major  Andre,  who  wrote  over  the 
signature  of  "  John  Anderson,"  in  a  slightly  disguised  hand. 
Not  doubting  that  "  Gustavus  "  was  General  Arnold,  Andre 
probably  wrote  the  letter  to  Mrs.  Arnold  in  August  for  the 


FAC-SIMILE  OF  ANDRE'S  DISGUISED  HANDWRITING. 

purpose  of  making  clear  to  her  husband  the  name  and  char 
acter  of  "  John  Anderson  "  by  means  of  his  handwriting  : 
Major  Andre  was  with  Sir  Henry  Clinton  at  the  siege 


66  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

and  capture  of  Charleston  in  the  spring  of  1780,  and  there 
is  clear  evidence  that  he  played  the  part  of  a  spy  in  that 
tragedy.  It  is  asserted  that  Edward  Shrewsberry,  a  respect 
able  citizen  of  Charleston,  but  a  suspected  Tory,  was  ill  at 
his  house  on  East  Bay  during  the  siege.  His  Whig  brother, 
who  belonged  to  the  American  army,  frequently  visited 
him.  He  saw  at  his  Tory  brother's  house,  on  several  occa 
sions,  a  young  man  clad  in  homespun,  who  was  introduced 
to  him  as  a  Virginian,  also  belonging  to  the  patriot  army. 
After  the  capitulation,  and  the  British  were  in  possession  of 
the  city,  the  Continental  soldier  saw  at  the  house  of  his  sick 
brother  the  same  young  man,  but  in  different  apparel,  who 
was  introduced  to  him  as  Major  Andre,  of  the  British  army. 
His  brother  afterward  confessed  that  the  major  and  the 
homespun-clad  young  "  Virginian  "  were  one  and  the  same 
man.  To  another  visitor  this  young  man  in  homespun  was 
introduced  by  Shrewsberry  as  "  a  back-country  man  who 
had  brought  down  cattle  for  the  garrison."  He  was  after 
ward  informed  that  the  cattle-driver  was  Major  Andre. 

If  these  assertions  be  true — and  there  is  no  reason  for 
doubting  their  truth — Major  Andre  did  not  hesitate,  when 
an  occasion  offered,  to  play  the  part  of  a  spy  for  the  benefit 
of  his  king  and  country.  Six  months  afterward,  when  cir 
cumstances  had  placed  him  in  that  position,  and  he  was  a 
prisoner,  he  expressed,  in  a  letter  to  Washington,  a  desire  to 
rescue  himself  from  "  an  imputation  of  having  assumed  a 
mean  character  for  treacherous  purposes  or  self-interest." 

In  the  early  autumn  of  1780  Major  Andre  was  made  adju 
tant-general  of  the  British  forces  in  America.  He  was  then 
busy  in  consummating  the  intrigue  and  conspiracy  with  Ar 
nold.  The  time  had  arrived  when  it  had  become  necessary 
to  bring  matters  to  a  head — to  settle  upon  a  definite  plan  and 


JOHN  ANDRE.  67 

time  for  action,  terms,  etc.  Arnold  had,  at  his  own  earnest 
solicitation,  been  appointed  to  the  command  at  West  Point 
and  its  dependencies  in  August,  and  had  resolved  to  sur 
render  that  strong  post  into  the  hands  of  the  enemies  of  his 
country.  It  was  an  object  of  covetous  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  British,  for  the  possession  of  it  would  open  a  free  com 
munication  between  New  York  and  Canada,  which  they  had 
been  endeavoring  to  secure  ever  since  the  invasion  of  Bur- 
goyne  in  1777.  The  subject  of  the  surrender  of  West  Point 
was  the  burden  of  the  correspondence  between  Arnold  and 
Andre  early  in  September. 

At  midsummer,  1780,  an  occasion  drew  from  Major  An 
dre's  pen  his  most  notable  satirical  poem,  in  imitation,  in 
.structure  and  metre,  of  the  famous  old  British  ballad, 
"  Chevy  Chase."  It  appears  to  have  been  written  for  the 
twofold  purpose  of  gratifying  his  own  quick  perception  of 
the  ludicrous  and  to  retaliate  in  kind  the  satirical  attacks 
of  Whig  writers  upon  him  and  his  friends.  The  occasion 
was  an  expedition  in  July  against  a  block -house  on  the 
west  bank  of  the  Hudson,  three  or  four  miles  below  Fort 
Lee,  at  the  base  of  the  Palisades,  which  was  occupied  by  a 
British  picket  of  seventy  men — loyal  refugees — for  the  pro 
tection  of  some  wood-cutters  and  the  neighboring  Tories. 

On  Bergen  Neck,  not  far  from  the  block-house,  were  a 
large  number  of  cattle  and  horses  within  reach  of  the  Brit 
ish  foragers  who  might  go  out  from  the  fort  at  Paulus'  Hook 
(now  Jersey  City).  Washington  sent  General  Wayne  with 
horse  and  foot — less  than  two  thousand  men — to  storm  the 
block-house  and  to  drive  the  cattle  within  the  American 
lines.  Wayne  sent  the  cavalry  under  Major  Henry  Lee 
{"  Legion  Harry,"  father  of  the  late  General  Robert  E.  Lee, 
of  the  Confederate  army),  to  perform  the  latter  duty,  while 


68  THE   TWO   SPIES. 

he,  with  three  regiments,  marched  against  the  block-house 
with  four  pieces  of  light  artillery.  A  brief  but  sharp  skirmish 
ensued.  The  assailants  were  compelled  to  retire,  and  Wayne 
returned  to  camp  with  a  large  number  of  cattle  driven  by 
the  dragoons.  The  failure  to  capture  the  block-house  was 
attributed  to  the  ineffectualness  of  the  small  cannons. 

The  "  Cow-Chase "  was  published  in  Rivington's  "  Ga 
zette,"  the  last  canto  on  the  day  of  the  author's  arrest  as  a 
spy  at  Tarrytown.  He  made  copies  of  the  poem  for  his 
friends.  Of  one  of  these,  belonging  to  the  late  Rev.  Dr. 
Sprague,  of  Albany,  I  was  permitted,  in  1849,  to  make  the 
following  copy  of  the  poem  given  in  the  next  chapter ;  also 
the  fac-simile  given  of  the  last  stanza  of  the  poem  in  the 
handwriting  of  Major  Andre. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

COW-CHASE. 

BY   MAJOR   JOHN    ANDRE. 

ELIZABETHTOWN,  August  i,  1780. 
CANTO    I. 

To  drive  the  kine.  one  summer's  morn, 

The  tanner  *  took  his  way  : 
The  calf  shall  rue  that  is  unborn 

The  jumbling  of  that  day. 

And  Wayne  descending  steers  shall  know, 

And  tauntingly  deride, 
And  call  to  mind,  in  ev'ry  low, 

The  tanning  of  his  hide. 

*  Andre  seems  to  have  been  impressed  with  the  idea  that  the  occupation  of 
General  Wayne,  the  leader  of  the  expedition,  was  that  of  a  tanner  in  his  early  life. 

A  few  foot-notes  were  made  to  the  poem  when  it  was  published  in  England. 
These  are  here  placed  in  italics.  The  remainder  are  by  the  author  of  this  volume. 


JOHN  ANDRE. 

Let  Bergen  cows  still  ruminate 

Unconscious  in  the  stall, 
What  mighty  means  were  used  to  get, 

And  lose  them  after  all. 

For  many  heroes  bold  and  brave 
From  New  Bridge  and  Tapaan, 

And  those  that  drink  Passaic's  wave, 
And  those  that  eat  soupaan  ;  * 

And  sons  of  distant  Delaware, 

And  still  remoter  Shannon, 
And  Major  Lee  with  horses  rare, 

And  Proctor  with  his  cannon  — 

All  wondrous  proud  in  arms  they  came  ! 

What  hero  could  refuse 
To  tread  the  rugged  path  to  fame, 

Who  had  a  pair  of  shoes  ?  t 

At  six  the  host,  with  sweating  buff, 

Arrived  at  Freedom's  Pole,  \ 
When  Wayne,  who  thought  he'd  time  enough, 

Thus  speechified  the  whole  : 

"  O  ye  whom  glory  doth  unite, 

Who  Freedom's  cause  espouse, 
Whether  the  wing  that's  doomed  to  fight, 
Or  that  to  drive  the  cows  ; 

"  Ere  yet  you  tempt  your  further  way, 

Or  into  action  come, 
Hear,  soldiers,  what  I  have  to  say, 
And  take  a  pint  of  rum.* 

"  Intemperate  valor  then  will  string 
Each  nervous  arm  the  better, 


*  A  hasty  -pudding  made  of  the  meal  of  Indian  corn, 

\  This  is  in  allusion  to  the  fact  that  many  of  the  American  soldiers,  at  that 
time,  were  without  shoes  or  stockings. 

t  Freedom's,  i.  e.,  liberty.  pole—  a  long  stick  stuck  in  the  ground. 

*  Rum  was  the  usual  kind  of  spirituous  liquor  that  formed  a  portion  of  the 
rations  of  the  soldiers. 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 

So  all  the  land  shall  IO  !  sing, 
And  read  the  gen'ral's  letter.  * 

"  Know  that  some  paltry  refugees, 

Whom  I've  a  mind  to  fight, 
Are  playing  h — 1  among  the  trees 
That  grow  on  yonder  height ! 

"  Their  fort  and  block-house  we'll  level, 

And  deal  a  horrid  slaughter ; 
We'll  drive  the  scoundrels  to  the  devil, 
And  ravish  wife  and  daughter. 

"  I  under  cover  of  th'  attack, 

Whilst  you  are  all  at  blows, 
From  English  Neighb'rhood  and  Tinack 
Will  drive  away  the  cows. 

"  For  well  you  know  the  latter  is 

The  serious  operation, 
And  fighting  with  the  refugees  t 
Is  only — demonstration." 

His  daring  words  from  all  the  crowd 
Such  great  applause  did  gain, 

That  every  man  declared  aloud 
For  serious  work  with — Wayne. 

Then  from  the  cask  of  rum  once  more 

They  took  a  heavy  gill, 
When  one  and  all  they  loudly  swore 

They'd  fight  upon  the  hill. 

But  here — the  Muse  has  not  a  strain 

Befitting  such  great  deeds  : 
"  Hurra,"  they  cried,  "  hurra  for  Wayne  ! 

And,  shouting — did  their  needs. 


*  In  his  letter  to  Congress  (July  26,  1780)  concerning  this  expedition,  Washing 
ton  spoke  of  the  American  cannons  being  "  too  light  to  penetrate  the  logs  of  which 
it  [the  block-house]  was  constructed."  He  also  attributed  the  great  loss  of  the 
Americans  in  that  attack  to  the  "  intemperate  valor"  of  the  men.  Andre  exercised 
a  poetical  license  in  putting  these  words  into  the  mouth  of  Wayne  before  the 
occurrence. 

f  Loyalists  expelled  from  the  American  lines. 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


CANTO   II. 

Near  his  meridian  pomp  the  sun 
Had  journeyed  from  th'  horizon, 

When  fierce  the  dusky  tribe  moved  on, 
Of  heroes  drunk  as  poison. 

The  sounds  confused,  of  boasting  oaths, 
Re-echoed  through  the  wood  : 

Some  vowed  to  sleep  in  dead  men's  clothes, 
And  some  to  swim  in  blood. 

At  Irvine's  nod,  'twas  fine  to  see 

The  left  prepared  to  fight, 
The  while  the  drovers,  Wayne  and  Lee 

Drew  off  upon  the  right. 

Which  Irvine  'twas  Fame  don't  relate, 
Nor  can  the  Muse  assist  her — 

Whether  'twas  he  that  cocks  a  hat, 
Or  he  that  gives  a  glister. 

For  greatly  one  was  signalized, 

That  fought  at  Chestnut  Hill, 
And  Canada  immortalized 

The  vender  of  the  pill.* 

Yet  the  attendance  upon  Proctor 
They  both  might  have  to  boast  of  ; 

For  there  was  business  for  the  doctor, 
And  hats  to  be  disposed  of. 

Let  none  uncandidly  infer 

That  Stirling  wanted  spunk, 
The  self-made  Peert  had  sure  been  there, 

But  that  the  Peer  was  drunk. 


*  One  of  the  Irvine s  was  a  hatter,  the  other  was  a  physician.  It  was  probably 
the  latter — Dr.  William  Irvine — who  was  in  this  expedition,  for  he  was  then  in  com 
mand  of  the  Second  Pennsylvania  Regiment.  He  had  been  a  captain  in  Canada 
about  two  years.  Brigadier-General  Irvine  was  made  a  prisoner  at  Chestnut  Hill, 
near  Philadelphia,  in  December,  1777. 

f  William  Alexander,  Lord  Stirling,  was  a  general  in  the  Continental  army. 
He  had  been  frustrated  in  obtaining  a  Scottish  estate  and  peerage  to  which  he  was 
clearly  entitled.  He  assumed  the  title  as  a  right. 


72  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

But  turn  we  to  the  Hudson's  banks, 

Where  stood  the  modest  train, 
With  purpose  firm,  though  slender  ranks, 

Nor  cared  a  pin  for  Wayne. 

For  then  the  unrelenting  hand 

Of  rebel  fury  drove, 
And  tore  from  ev'ry  genial  hand 

Of  friendship  and  of  love. 

And  some  within  a  dungeon's  gloom, 

By  mock  tribunals  laid, 
Had  waited  long  a  cruel  doom, 

Impending  o'er  their  head. 

Here  one  bewails  a  brother's  fate, 

There  one  a  sire  demands, 
Cut  off,  alas  !  before  their  date, 

By  ignominious  hands. 

And  silvered  grandsires  here  appeared 

In  deep  distress  serene, 
Of  reverend  manners  that  declared 

The  better  days  they'd  seen. 

Oh  !  cursed  rebellion,  these  are  thine, 

Thine  are  these  tales  of  woe  ; 
Shall  at  thy  dire,  insatiate  shrine 

Blood  never  cease  to  flow  ? 

And  now  the  foe  began  to  lead 

His  forces  to  the  attack  ; 
Balls  whistling  unto  balls  succeed, 

And  make  the  block-house  crack. 

No  shot  could  pass,  if  you  will  take 

The  gen'ral's  word  for  true  ;  * 
But  'tis  a  d le  mistake, 

For  ev'ry  shot  went  through. 

*  General  Wayne  reported  that,  owing  to  the  lightness  of  his  field-pieces,  the 
shot  did  not  penetrate  the  logs  of  the  block-house. 


JOHN  ANDRE. 

The  firmer  as  the  rebels  pressed, 

The  loyal  heroes  stand  ; 
Virtue  had  nerved  each  honest  breast, 

And  industry  each  hand. 

In  valor's  fren?y,  Hamilton  * 

Rode  like  a  soldier  big, 
And  Secretary  Harrison  t 

With  pen  stuck  in  his  wig. 

But,  lest  chieftain  Washington 

Should  mourn  them  in  the  mumps,f 

The  fate  of  Withington  to  shun, 
They  fought  behind  the  stumps.  * 

But  ah  !  Thaddeus  Posset,  why 

Should  thy  poor  soul  elope  ? 
And  why  should  Titus  Hooper  die  — 

Ah  !  die  without  a  rope  ? 

Apostate  Murphy,  thou  to  whom 

Fair  Shela  ne'er  was  cruel  ; 
In  death  shalt  hear  her  mourn  thy  doom, 

"  Och  !  would  ye  die,  my  jewel  ?  " 

Thee,  Nathan  Pumpkin,  I  lament, 

Of  melancholy  fate  ; 
The  gray  goose,  stolen  as  he  went, 

In  his  heart's  blood  was  wet. 


*  Vide  Lee's  trial.     General  Charles  Lee,  in  his  testimony  at  his  trial  by  court- 
martial,  after  the  battle  of  Monmouth,  spoke  of  "  Colonel  Hamilton  flourishing  his 
sword  "  after  delivering  a  message   from  Washington  on  the  battle-field,  and  say 
ing,  "  '  I  will  stay,  and  we  will   all   die  here  on  this  spot.'     I  could  not  but  be  sur 
prised,"  said  Lee,  "  at  his  expression,  but  observed  him  much  fluttered,  and  in  a 
sort  of  frenzy  of  valor." 

f  Richard  Harrison,  Washington's  secretary. 
\  A  disorder  prevalent  in  the  rebel  lines. 

*  The  merit  of  these  lines,  which  is  doubtless  very  great,  can  only  be  felt  by  true 
connoisseurs  conversant  in  ancient  song.     In  "  Chevy  Chase  "  occurs  the  stanza  : 

"  For  Witherington  needs  must  I  wayle, 

As  one  in  doleful  dumps  ; 
For  when  his  legges  were  smitten  off, 
He  fought  upon  his  stumps." 


74  THE   TWO   SPIES. 

Now,  as  the  fight  was  further  fought, 

And  balls  began  to  thicken, 
The  fray  assumed,  the  gen'rals  thought, 

The  color  of  a  licking. 

Yet  undismayed,  the  chiefs  command, 

And,  to  redeem  the  day, 
Cry,  "  Soldiers,  charge  !  "   They  hear,  they  stand— 

They  turn  and  run  away  ! 


CANTO   III. 

Not  all  delights  the  bloody  spear, 

Or  horrid  din  of  battle  ; 
There  are,  I'm  sure,  who'd  like  to  hear 

A  word  about  the  rattle. 

The  chief  whom  we  beheld  of  late 
Near  Schralenberg  haranguing, 

At  Yan  Van  Poop's  *  unconscious  sat 
Of  Irvine's  hearty  banging  ; 

While  valiant  Lee,  with  courage  wild, 

Most  bravely  did  oppose 
The  tears  of  women  and  of  child, 

Who  begged  he'd  leave  the  cows. 

But  Wayne,  of  sympathizing  heart, 

Required  a  relief 
Not  all  the  blessings  could  impart 

Of  battle  or  of  beef. 

For  now  a  prey  to  female  charms, 
His  soul  took  more  delight  in 

A  lovely  Hamadryad's  t  arms, 
Than  cow-driving  or  fighting. 

A  nymph,  the  refugees  had  drove 

Far  from  her  native  tree, 
Just  happened  to  be  on  the  move, 

When  up  came  Wayne  and  Lee. 


*  Who  kept  a  dram-shot.  \  A  deity  of  the  woods. 


JOHN  ANDRE. 

She  in  mad  Anthony's  fierce  eye 

The  hero  saw  portrayed, 
And,  all  in  tears,  she  took  him  by 

The  bridle  of  his  jade.* 

"  Hear,"  said  the  nymph,  "  O  great  commander, 

No  human  lamentations  ; 
The  trees  you  see  them  cutting  yonder 

Are  all  my  near  relations. 

"  And  I,  forlorn,  implore  thine  aid 

To  free  the  sacred  grove  ; 
So  shall  thy  prowess  be  repaid 

With  an  immortal's  love." 

Now  some,  to  prove  she  was  a  goddess, 

Said  this  enchanting  fair 
Had  late  retired  from  the  Bodies  t 

In  all  the  pomp  of  war  ; 

That  drums  and  merry  fifes  had  played 

To  honor  her  retreat, 
And  Cunningham  %  himself  conveyed 

The  lady  through  the  street. 

Great  Wayne,  by  soft  compassion  swayed, 

To  no  inquiry  stoops, 
But  takes  the  fair,  afflicted  maid 

Right  into  Yan  Van  Poop's. 

So  Roman  Anthony,  they  say, 

Disgraced  the  imperial  banner, 
And  for  a  gypsy  lost  a  day, 

Like  Anthony  the  tanner. 

The  Hamadryad  had  but  half 

Received  redress  from  Wayne, 
When  drums  and  colors,  cow  and  calf, 

Came  down  the  road  amain. 


*  A  New  England  name  for  a  horse,  mare,  or  gelding. 

\  A  cant  appellation  given  among  the  soldiers  to  the  corps  that  has  the  honor  to 
guard  his  Majesty'  s  person—  &  body-guard, 

\  William  Cunningham,  the  veteran  provost-marshal  at  New  York. 


76  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

All  in  a  cloud  of  dust  were  seen 
The  sheep,  the  horse,  the  goat, 

The  gentle  heifer,  ass  obscene, 
The  yearling,  and  the  shoat. 

And  pack-horses  with  fowls  came  by, 

Befeathered  on  each  side, 
Like  Pegasus,  the  horse  that  I 

And  other  poets  ride. 

Sublime  upon  the  stirrups  rose 

The  mighty  Lee  behind, 
And  drove  the  terror-smitten  cows 

Like  chaff  before  the  wind  ! 

But  sudden  see  the  woods  above 

Pour  down  another  corps, 
All  helter-skelter  in  a  drove, 

Like  that  I  sung  before. 

Irvine  and  terror  in  the  van 

Came  flying  all  abroad, 
And  cannon,  colors,  horse,  and  man, 

Ran  tumbling  to  the  road. 

Still  as  he  fled,  'twas  Irvine's  cry, 

And  his  example  too  : 
"  Run  on,  my  merry  men,  all— for  why  ?  " 

The  shot  will  not  go  through. 

Five  refugees,  'tis  true,  were  found 
Stiff  on  the  block-house  floor  ; 

But  then,  'tis  thought,  the  shot  went  round, 
And  in  at  the  back  door  ! 

As  when  two  kennels  in  the  street, 
Swelled  with  a  recent  rain, 

In  gushing  streams  together  meet, 
And  seek  the  neighboring  drain — 

So  meet  these  dung-born  tribes  in  one, 

As  swift  in  their  career, 
And  so  to  New  Bridge  they  ran  on, 

But  all  the  cows  got  clear. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  77 

Poor  Parson  Caldwell,  all  in  wonder, 

Saw  the  returning  train, 
And  mourned  to  Wayne  the  lack  of  plunder, 

For  them  to  steal  again.* 

For  'twas  his  right  to  seize  the  spoil,  and 

To  share  with  each  commander, 
As  he  had  done  at  Staten  Island 

With  frost-bit  Alexander.t 

In  his  dismay,  the  frantic  priest 

Began  to  grow  prophetic, 
You  had  swore,  to  see  his  lab'ring  breast, 

He'd  taken  an  emetic  ! 

"  I  view  a  future  day,"  said  he, 

"  Brighter  than  this  day  dark  is, 
And  you  shall  see  what  you  shall  see, 

Ha  !  ha  !  one  pretty  marquis  ;  \ 

"  And  he  shall  come  to  Paulus  Hook,* 

And  great  achievements  think  on, 
And  make  a  bow  and  take  a  look, 

Like  Satan  over  Lincoln. 

"  And  all  the  land  around  shall  glory 

To  see  the  Frenchmen  caper, 
And  pretty  Susan  ||  tell  the  story 

In  the  next  Chatham  paper." 

*  Rev.  James  Caldwell,  an  earnest  Whig  of  New  Jersey,  and  pastor  of  a  church 
at  Connecticut  Farms.     His  wife  had  been  shot  by  a  newly  enlisted  soldier  in  her 
own  house,  when  the  British,  under  Knyphausen,  made  a  raid  upon  Springfield 
in  1778. 

•{•  Calling  himself,  because  he  was  ordered  not  to  do  it,  Earl  of  Stirling,  though 
no  sterling  earl.  (See  foot-note,  page  71.)  In  a  winter  expedition  to  Staten  Island 
a  larger  proportion  of  his  soldiers  were  frost-bitten. 

\  Lafayette. 

*  Now  Jersey  City,  where  the  British  had  a  redoubt.     This  Major  Henry  Lee 
surprised,  in  August,  1779,  and  carried  away  one  hundred  and  fifty-nine  of  the  gar 
rison  prisoners. 

||  Mrs.  Susannah  Livingston,  a  daughter  of  Governor  William  Livingston,  of 
New  Jersey,  who  was  suspected  of  political  authorship. 


78 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 

This  solemn  prophecy,  of  course, 
Gave  all  much  consolation  ; 

Except  to  Wayne,  who  lost  his  horse 
Upon  the  great  occasion  — 

His  horse  that  carried  all  his  prog, 

His  military  speeches, 
His  corn-stalk  whisky  for  his  grog  — 

Blue  stockings  and  brown  breeches. 

And  now  I've  closed  my  epic  strain, 

I  tremble  as  I  show  it, 
Lest  this  same  vvarrio-drover,  Wayne, 

Should  ever  catch  the  poet.* 


FAC-SIMILE  OF  THE  LAST  STANZA  OF  THE  COW-CHASE. 


CHAPTER   V. 

WE  have  seen  that  Arnold,  at  his  own  earnest  solici 
tation,  had  been  appointed  to  the  command  of  West  Point 
in  August,  1780.  It  was  then  known  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton 

*  It  so  happened  that  when  Andre  was  taken  to  Tappaan  he  was  delivered  to  the 
custody  of  Wayne.  The  latter  was  not  a  member  of  the  board  of  inquiry.  Frank 
Moore  says  that,  under  Andre's  signature  to  a  MS.  copy  of  the  "  Cow-Chase,'  some 

one  wrote  : 

"  When  the  epic  strain  was  sung, 

The  poet  by  the  neck  was  hung, 

And  to  his  cost  he  finds,  too  late, 

The  '  dung-born  tribe '  decides  his  fate." 


JOHN  ANDRE.  79 

that  "  Gustavus  "  was  no  other  than  General  Arnold.  Every 
thing  was  ripe  for  the  consummation  of  the  plot ;  both  par 
ties  were  anxious  for  the  end. 

It  was  a  gloomy  hour  in  the  history  of  the  great  struggle, 
aside  from  the  contemplated  act  of  foul  treason.  Charleston 
had  fallen  in  May,  and  an  American  army  there  had  been 
made  prisoners.  Gates  had  been  defeated  near  Camden  in 
August,  and  another  American  army  dispersed.  The  South 
was  in  possession  of  the  enemy  ;  New  Jersey  was  in  nearly 
the  same  condition,  and  on  Manhattan  Island  lay  a  strong 
army  of  veteran  British  soldiers.  This  was  the  moment 
sagaciously  chosen  by  Arnold  to  strike  a  fatal  blow  at  the 
liberties  of  his  country. 

At  the  close  of  August  Arnold  wrote  to  Andre,  in  the 
usual  disguise  of  commercial  phrases,  demanding  a  personal 
interview  at  an  American  outpost  in  Westchester  County, 
the  latter  to  come  in  the  disguise  of  "  John  Anderson,"  a 
bearer  of  intelligence  from  New  York.  But  Andre  was  not 
disposed  to  enter  the  American  lines  in  disguise.  A  meeting 
of  Andre  and  Beverly  Robinson  with  General  Arnold,  at 
Dobb's  Ferry,  on  the  neutral  ground,  on  September  nth, 
was  arranged  ;  but  the  interview  was  prevented  by  provi 
dential  interposition — an  interposition  in  favor  of  the  Ameri 
can  cause  so  conspicuously  manifested  in  every  stage  of  this 
conspiracy. 

Washington  had  made  arrangements  for  a  conference,  at 
Hartford,  on  the  2Oth  of  September,  with  the  Count  de  Ro- 
chambeau,  the  commander  of  the  French  forces,  then  at 
Newport,  Rhode  Island,  who  had  come  to  assist  the  Ameri 
cans  in  their  struggle.  It  was  arranged  between  Arnold  and 
Andre  that  the  surrender  of  West  Point  should  take  place 
during  Washington's  absence.  A  personal  interview  for  the 


go  THE  TWO  SPIES. 

purpose  of  settling  everything  concerning  the  great  transac 
tion  was  absolutely  necessary,  and  a  meeting  of  the  complot- 
ters  was  appointed  to  take  place  on  the  night  of  the  2ist  of 
September,  on  the  west  side  of  the  Hudson,  in  a  lonely  spot 
not  far  from  the  hamlet  of  Haverstraw. 

Beverly  Robinson  and  a  few  others  were  sharers  in  the 
great  secret ;  and  there  were  vague  rumors  in  the  air  that 
Major  Andre  was  engaged  in  an  enterprise  which,  if  success 
ful,  would  end  the  war,  and  redound  to  his  honor  and  secure 
him  great  renown — a  baronetcy  and  a  brigadiership,  per 
haps.  It  is  said  that  Sir  Henry  Clinton  promised  these  re 
wards  to  his  adjutant-general.  In  confirmation  of  the  truth 
of  this  assertion,  an  incident  that  occurred  on  the  day  when 
Andre  left  New  York  to  meet  Arnold  may  here  be  cited. 

On  the  20th  of  September  (1780)  Colonel  Williams,  whose 
headquarters  were  in  the  Kip  mansion,  at  Kip's  Bay,  foot  of 
(present)  Thirty-fourth  Street,  East  River,  gave  a  dinner 
party  to  General  Sir  Henry  Clinton  and  his  staff.  It  was  a 
beautiful,  sunny  day,  and  there  were  exuberant  Tories  around 
the  banquet-table  on  that  occasion.  The  spirits  of  Sir  Henry 
were  specially  buoyant,  for  he  was  anticipating  a  great  vic 
tory  in  the  near  future.  His  accomplished  adjutant-general, 
Major  Andre,  was  with  him. 

When  the  band  had  ceased  playing  the  favorite  dinner 
air,  "  The  Roast  Beef  of  Old  England,"  many  toasts  were 
drunk.  At  length  Colonel  Williams  arose  and  said  :  "  Sir 
Henry,  our  adjutant-general  appears  very  dull  this  after 
noon.  We  all  know  what  a  brave  soldier,  what  a  genial 
companion,  what  a  charming  song-bird  he  is  ;  and  yet  music 
is,  perhaps,  the  least  among  his  accomplishments.  I  call 
upon  the  adjutant-general  for  a  song."  Colonel  Williams 
then  said,  "  Gentlemen,  I  offer  the  toast, '  Major  John  Andre, 


JOHN  ANDRE.  8 1 

our  worthy  adjutant-general,  the  brave  soldier  and  accom 
plished  gentleman/  ' 

The  toast  was  greeted  with  great  applause.  Then  Andre 
arose  and  said  :  "  Yes,  Colonel  Williams,  I  do  feel  rather  se 
rious  this  afternoon,  and  I  can  give  no  particular  reason  for 
it.  I  will  sing,  however,  as  you  request  me  to."  Then  he 
sang,  with  great  sweetness  and  much  pathos,  the  old  familiar 
camp-song,  beginning — 

"  Why,  soldiers,  why, 
Should  we  be  melancholy,  boys  ? 
Why,  soldiers,  why, 
Whose  business  'tis  to  die  ! 
For  should  next  campaign 
Send  us  to  Him  who  made  us,  boys, 
We're  free  from  pain  ; 
But  should  we  remain, 
A  bottle  and  kind  landlady 
Makes  all  well  again." 

With  a  trembling  and  husky  voice  the  usually  gay  young 
soldier  thanked  the  company  for  the  honor  they  had  done 
him,  when  Sir  Henry  said  :  "  A  word  in  addition,  gentlemen, 
if  you  please.  The  major  leaves  the  city  on  duty  to-night, 
which  will  most  likely  terminate  in  making  plain  John  An 
dre  Sir  John  Andre — for  success  must  crow^n  his  efforts." 

Major  Andre  left  the  hilarious  company  with  a  counte 
nance  saddened  by  an  indefinable  presentiment  of  impend 
ing  disaster,  and  departed  on  that  fatal  mission  involved  in 
his  complot  with  General  Arnold. 

Andre  went  up  the  Hudson  that  evening  in  the  sloop- 
of-war  Vulture,  twenty-four,  to  have  the  arranged  personal 
interview  with  Arnold.  He  was  accompanied  by  Beverly 
Robinson.  The  vessel  was  anchored  between  Teller's  (now 
Croton)  Point  and  Verplanck's  Point,  and  lay  there  all  the 


$2  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

next  day.  Arnold  had  agreed  to  send  a  boat  to  the  Vulture 
to  convey  Andre  to  the  shore  at  the  appointed  time.  For 
that  service  he  had  employed  Joshua  H.  Smith,  an  intimate 
acquaintance  and  a  gentleman  farmer,  at  whose  house  Mrs. 
Arnold  had  been  entertained  a  few  days  before,  while  on  her 
way  to  join  her  husband  at  his  headquarters.  Smith's  house 
is  yet  standing,  upon  an  eminence  known  as  Treason  Hill, 
between  Stony  Point  and  Haverstraw.  It  overlooks  a  pict 
uresque  region,  with  Haverstraw  Bay  in  the  foreground. 


THE  SMITH  HOUSE. 

The  place  appointed  for  the  meeting  of  the  conspirators 
was  at  a  lonely  spot  in  a  thicket  at  the  foot  of  Torn  Mount 
ain,  near  the  west  shore  of  the  Hudson,  about  two  miles 
below  Haverstraw.  It  was  outside  the  American  lines. 
Smith  appeared  in  a  small  boat,  with  two  stout  oarsmen, 
at  the  side  of  the  Vulture  at  midnight.  Andr6  was  ready  to 
accompany  him.  He  covered  his  scarlet  uniform  with  a 


JOHN  ANDRE.  83 

long  blue  surtout.  Clinton  had  instructed  him  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  papers  of  any  kind,  and  he  went  ashore 
empty-handed. 

It  was  a  little  past  midnight  when  Andre  was  landed  on 
the  beach  at  the  mouth  of  a  little  creek.  He  was  conducted 
by  Smith  to  Arnold's  place  of  concealment,  and  there  in 
the  dimmed  starlight  these  notable  conspirators,  who  had 
long  communed  through  mysterious  epistles,  met  face  to 
face  for  the  first  time.  At  Arnold's  request,  Smith  went 
back  to  his  boat  to  await  the  return  of  Andre,  who  was  to 
be  conveyed  again  to  the  Vulture  before  daybreak. 

The  interview  was  long  protracted.  It  was  not  ended 
when  the  eastern  horizon  began  to  kindle  with  the  dawn. 
Both  men  were  anxious  to  complete  the  business  at  that  time. 
Arnold  had  two  horses  with  him,  one  of  them  ridden  by  his 
servant.  He  now  proposed  that  Andre  should  mount  his 
servant's  horse  and  ride  with  him  to  Smith's  house  and 
there  complete  the  arrangement.  The  major  reluctantly 
consented  to  do  so,  with  the  understanding  that  he  was  to 
be  conveyed  to  the  Vulture  as  soon  as  possible. 

As  the  two  horsemen  approached  the  little  hamlet  of 
Haverstraw  they  were  challenged  by  a  sentinel.  Andre 
was  alarmed.  He  was,  unwittingly,  within  the  American 
lines ;  but  he  had  gone  too  far,  however,  to  recede,  and  they 
rode  on  together  to  Smith's  house.  By  ten  o'clock  they  had 
finished  their  business,  when  Arnold,  after  handing  Andre 
some  papers  containing  all  needed  information  concerning 
the  post  to  be  surrendered,  departed  in  his  barge  for  West 
Point. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Sir  Henry  Clinton  should 
ascend  the  Hudson  with  a  strong  force  on  the  25th,  and 

attack  the  important  post;  and  Arnold,  after  making  a  show 

7 


84  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

of  resistance,  should  surrender  it,  with  all  the  men  and  muni 
tions  of  war,  on  the  plea  of  the  weakness  of  the  garrison.  A 
part  of  the  plan  was  the  seizure  of  Washington,  who  was  to 
return  on  the  2/th.  For  this  service  the  traitor  was  to  re 
ceive  from  the  king  the  commission  of  brigadier-general  in 
the  royal  army,  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  gold.  The  sur 
render  was  not  effected,  but  Arnold  received  the  commis 
sion,  and  nearly  forty  thousand  dollars  in  gold. 

When  the  conspirators  arrived  at  Smith's  house  at  sun 
rise,  Andre  was  alarmed  at  the  disappearance  of  the  Vulture. 
She  had  been  cannonaded  from  Verplanck's  Point,  and  com 
pelled  to  drop  down  the  river. 

Just  after  the  departure  of  Arnold,  the  Vulture  reap 
peared  at  her  anchorage  of  the  night  before.  Andre  urged 
Smith  to  take  him  to  the  sloop  immediately,  but  he  declined, 
giving  various  reasons  for  his  conduct.  He  was  really  afraid 
to  perform  the  service,  and  the  British  adjutant-general  was 
kept  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety  on  Treason  Hill  until  even 
ing.  Arnold  had  intimated  that  the  major  might  be  com 
pelled  to  cross  the  river  and  return  to  New  York  by  land. 
To  provide  for  any  contingency,  he  furnished  passports,  one 
to  secure  to  Andre  a  safeguard  through  the  American  posts 
to  the  neutral  ground,  and  another  to  secure  such  safety  in 
passing  down  the  river  in  a  boat  to  Dobb's  Ferry. 

Smith  decided  that  Andre  must  return  by  land.  He 
tried  to  procure  an  American  uniform  for  the  major's  dis 
guise,  but  could  not,  and  his  guest  was  compelled  to  accept 
an  old  purple  or  crimson  coat,  trimmed  with  threadbare 
gold  lace,  and  a  tarnished  beaver  hat  belonging  to  Smith. 
The  rest  of  his  suit  was  his  military  undress,  nankeen  small 
clothes,  and  white-topped  boots.  His  long  surtout  with 
a  cape  covered  all. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  85 

In  violation  of  Clinton's  positive  orders,  Andre  took 
away  the  papers  which  Arnold  had  given  him.  These  he 
concealed  in  his  stockings  beneath  his  feet.  So  equipped, 
and  bearing  Arnold's  passports,  Andre  mounted  a  black 
horse  which  the  American  general  had  provided  for  his  use, 
and  at  twilight,  accompanied  by  Smith  and  his  negro  ser 
vant,  he  crossed  the  river  at  the  King's  Ferry,  went  safely 
through  the  American  works  at  Verplanck's  Point,  and  re 
luctantly  spent  the  night  at  a  farm-house  below  the  Croton 
River,  within  the  American  lines.  The  travelers  slept  to 
gether.  It  was  a  Aveary  and  restless  night  for  Andre.  They 
arose  early  and  rode  on  some  distance  together.  After 
breakfast  they  parted  company  at  Pine's  bridge,  Andre 
pushing  on  within  the  neutral  ground.  He  was  induced  to 
leave  the  road  leading  to  the  White  Plains,  which  he  had 
been  directed  to  take,  and,  turning  westward  at  Chappaqua, 
he  followed  another  road  nearer  the  river,  which  led  him  to 
Tarrytown.  This  was  a  fatal  mistake. 

The  neutral  ground,  extending  from  King's  Bridge  nearly 
to  the  Croton  River,  was  swarming  with  Tories.  It  was  the 
region  of  great  manors,  whose  owners  were  loyalists,  and 
their  retainers  were  their  political  followers.  It  was  a  most 
uncomfortable  dwelling-place  for  the  comparatively  few 
Whig  inhabitants.  It  was  infested  with  gangs  of  marauders, 
who  were  called  "  cow-boys."  They  were  constantly  steal 
ing  the  cattle  of  the  Whigs  and  driving  them  off  to  the 
British  army  in  New  York.  The  patriotic  inhabitants,  espe 
cially  the  young  men,  armed  themselves  in  defense  of  their 
property. 

On  the  morning  of  Friday,  the  23d  of  September  (1780), 
seven  young  men,  farmers  and  neighbors— John  Paulding, 
Isaac  Van  Wart,  David  Williams,  John  Yerks  and  three 


86  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

others — were  out  on  a  scout  together.  They  seem  to  have 
been  a  sort  of  guerrillas,  acting  independently  in  intercept 
ing  marauders  and  arresting  suspicious-looking  travelers. 
Paulding  had  been  a  prisoner  in  New  York  a  short  time 
before,  and  had  escaped  in  the  disguise  of  a  Hessian  coat 
which  a  friend  had  procured  for  him.  This  coat  he  now 
wore. 

Three  of  the  four  young  men  above  named  were  playing 
cards  in  a  thicket  near  the  highway,  half  a  mile  from  Tarry- 
town,  at  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  a  well- 
dressed  horseman  approached  on  a  black  steed.  He  was  a 
stranger,  and  the  young  men  concluded  to  stop  him  and  in 
quire  about  his  errand.  Paulding,  who  was  the  leader  of 
the  little  band,  stepped  out  of  the  bushes  with  his  musket, 
and  ordered  the  traveler  to  halt  and  give  an  account  of  him 
self.  Seeing  Paulding  with  a  British  military  coat  on,  and 
knowing  that  he  was  far  below  the  American  lines  and 
nearer  those  of  the  British,  the  horseman  said  to  the  three 
young  scouts : 

"  My  lads,  I  hope  you  belong  to  our  party." 

"  What  party  ?  "  asked  Paulding. 

"  The  lower  party — the  British." 

"  We  do,"  said  Paulding. 

Completely  thrown  off  his  guard,  the  traveler  exclaimed 
with  much  animation  :  "  Thank  God,  I  am  once  more 
among  friends !  I  am  a  British  officer,  out  in  the  country 
on  particular  business,  and  hope  you  will  not  detain  me  a 
minute." 

"  We  are  Americans,"  said  Paulding,  seizing  the  bridle 
of  the  horse,  "  and  you  are  our  prisoner." 

The  traveler  was  shocked,  but,  assuming  composure,  he 
said,  "  I  must  do  anything  to  get  along,"  and  with  apparent 


JOHN  ANDRE.  87 

unconcern   he   pulled   from   his   pocket  Arnold's   passport, 
which  read  : 

"  HEADQUARTERS,  ROBINSON'S  HOUSE,  September  22,  1780. 
"  Permit  Mr.  John  Anderson  to  pass  the  guards  to  the 
White   Plains,  or  below  if  he  chooses,  he  being  on  public 
business  by  my  direction. 

"  B.  ARNOLD,  Major-General." 


^.cT^rztr&t,  ^ 


ARNOLD'S  PASSPORT. 

The  suspicions  of  the  young  men  were  now  thoroughly 
aroused.  Making  the  traveler  dismount,  they  searched 
every  part  of  his  clothing,  but  found  nothing  of  importance. 

"  Try  his  boots,"  said  Van  Wart. 

They  compelled  him  to  sit  upon  a  log  by  the  road-side, 
and,  pulling  off  his  boots,  they  discovered,  by  the  bagging 


88  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

of  his  stocking-feet,  several  papers.  These  Paulding,  the 
only  one  of  the  young  men  who  could  read,  glanced  over 
and  exclaimed  : 

"  My  God  !  he  is  a  spy  !  " 

Major  John  Andre,  adjutant-general  of  the  British 
army,  was  their  prisoner,  but  they  did  not  know  it.  They 
believed  that  he  was  a  British  officer,  as  he  himself  at  first 
announced.  They  questioned  him  closely  about  the  papers 
in  his  boots,  but  he  became  very  reticent.  He  offered  them 
large  bribes  to  induce  them  to  let  him  pass.  He  offered 
them  his  gold  watch.  They  refused.  "  I  will  give  you  a 
hundred  guineas  and  any  amount  of  dry  goods,"  he  said. 
They  refused.  "  I  will  give  you  a  thousand  guineas,"  he 
said,  "  and  you  can  hold  me  as  a  hostage  till  one  of  your 
number  return  with  the  money." 

"  We  would  not  let  you  go  for  ten  thousand  guineas !  " 
said  Paulding,  in  a  loud  voice.  That  decision  settled  the  fate 
of  Andre. 

The  prisoner  then  requested  his  captors  to  take  him  to 
the  nearest  American  post,  and  ask  him  no  more  questions. 
They  complied.  He  was  seated  on  his  horse,  which  one  of 
them  alternately  led,  while  the  others  marched  alongside  as 
guards. 

Such  was  the  story  of  Andre's  capture,  as  related  by  the 
three  young  men.  Major  Andre  declared  that  the  sole 
object  of  the  captors  in  arresting  him  was  evidently  plun 
der  ;  that  they  searched  every  part  of  him,  even  his  saddle 
and  his  boots,  for  gold  ;  and  that,  if  he  had  possessed  suffi 
cient  in  specie  (he  had  only  some  Continental  bills),  he  might 
have  easily  persuaded  them  to  let  him  go.  But  the  prepon 
derance  of  contemporary  testimony  is  in  favor  of  the  cap 
tors'  story.  Washington  wrote  to  Congress  : 


JOHN  ANDRE.  89 

"  Their  conduct  merits  our  warmest  esteem,  and  I  beg 
leave  to  add  that  I  think  the  public  would  do  well  to  grant 
them  a  handsome  gratuity.  They  have  prevented,  in  all 
probability,  our  suffering  one  of  the  severest  strokes  that 
could  have  been  meditated  against  us." 

Congress  complimented  the  captors  on  their  fidelity  and 
patriotism  by  a  resolution  of  thanks,  ordered  that  an  annuity 
of  two  hundred  dollars  in  specie  should  be  paid  to  each  out 
of  the  public  treasury,  and  directed  the  Board  of  War  to 


(From  a  Miniature  in  possession  of  the  late  James  K.  Paulding.) 

have  a  silver  medal  of  appropriate  design  struck  and  given 
to  each.  These  medals  Washington  presented  to  the  cap 
tors  in  person.  Tradition  tells  us  that  Andre  would  un- 


90  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

doubtedly  have  been  released  but  for  the  strong  will  and 
patriotic  impulses  of  John  Paulding,  then  only  twenty-two 
years  of  age. 

Andre  was  delivered  to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Jameson, 
then  in  command  of  Sheldon's  dragoons  and  a  few  Connecti 
cut  militia  at  North  Salem.  That  honest  officer  believed 
the  captive  to  be  what  Arnold's  passport  proclaimed  himr 
simply  "  John  Anderson,"  on  public  business  by  direction  of 
his  general,  and  treated  him  very  kindly  as  such.  The  pris 
oner  requested  Jameson  to  inform  Arnold  that  John  An 
derson  was  a  captive,  in  his  custody.  The  honest,  unsus 
picious  Jameson  complied.  He  wrote  to  Arnold  to  this 
effect,  explaining  how  Anderson  came  to  be  a  prisoner,  and 
concluded  that  the  simplest  way  in  the  matter  would  be  to 
send  the  captive  to  Arnold  with  the  letter !  He  detailed 
Lieutenant  Allen  and  four  of  the  militia  to  take  both  to 
headquarters,  and  at  the  same  time  sent  the  papers  found  in 
Andre's  boot  by  express  to  Washington,  who  was  then  on 
his  way  from  Hartford. 

Andre  was  delighted  by  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  for 
now  there  appeared  a  way  of  escape  for  both  Arnold  and 
himself.  The  escort  with  the  prisoner  were  some  distance 
on  their  way,  when  Major  Benjamin  Tallmadge,  a  vigilant 
and  active  officer  of  the  dragoons,  returned  to  Jameson's 
quarters  after  a  brief  absence.  Learning  all  about  the 
capture  and  the  nature  of  the  papers  found  on  the  prisoner,, 
he  at  once  pronounced  him  a  spy  and  Arnold  a  traitor. 
He  persuaded  Jameson  to  order  the  return  of  the  prisoner, 
agreeing  to  bear  all  blame  himself  for  the  act.  The  cap 
tive  was  brought  back,  but,  unfortunately,  Allen  proceeded 
alone  with  Jameson's  letter  to  Arnold. 

Andre  was  committed  to  the  care  of  Lieutenant  King,  of 


JOHN  ANDRE.  91 

the  dragoons,  who  was  convinced,  by  the  prisoner's  manner 
and  other  tokens,  that  he  was  no  ordinary  man.  Finally,  the 
captive  requested  King  to  walk  with  him  in  a  large  yard 
attached  to  the  house  in  which  they  were,  when  the  pris 
oner  said,  "  I  must  make  a  confidant  of  somebody,  and  I 
know  not  a  more  proper  person  than  yourself,  you  have 
treated  me  so  kindly."  He  then  made  a  full  confession  of 
his  rank,  and  gave  a  brief  narrative  of  his  career  in  America 
since  his  capture  at  St.  Johns.  Procuring  writing  materials,, 
he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Washington  : 

"  SALEM,  the  24th  September,  ij8o. 

"  SIR  :  What  I  have  as  yet  said  concerning  myself  was  in 
the  justifiable  attempt  to  be  extricated.  I  am  too  little  accus 
tomed  to  duplicity  to  have  succeeded. 

"  I  beg  your  Excellency  will  be  persuaded  that  no  alter 
ation  in  the  temper  of  my  mind,  or  apprehension  for  my  safe 
ty,  induces  me  to  take  the  step  of  addressing  you,  but  that  it 
is  to  rescue  myself  from  an  imputation  of  having  assumed  a 
mean  character  for  treacherous  purposes  or  self-interest,  a 
conduct  incompatible  with  the  principles  which  actuate  me, 
as  well  as  my  condition  in  life.  It  is  to  vindicate  my  fame 
that  I  speak,  and  not  to  solicit  security.  The  person  in  your 
possession  is  Major  John  Andre,  adjutant-general  in  the  Brit 
ish  army. 

"  The  influence  of  one  commander  with  another  in  the 
army  of  his  adversary  is  an  advantage  taken  in  war.  A  cor 
respondence  for  this  purpose  I  held,  as  confidential,  in  the 
present  instance,  with  his  Excellency  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 

"  To  favor  it,  I  agreed  to  meet  upon  ground  not  within 
the  posts  of  either  army  a  person  who  was  to  give  me  intel 
ligence.  I  came  up  in  the  Vulture  man-of-war  for  this  effect, 


92  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

and  was  fetched  by  a  boat  from  the  shore  to  the  beach  ;  be 
ing  there,  I  was  told  that  the  approach  of  day  would  prevent 
my  return,  and  that  I  must  be  concealed  until  the  next  night. 
I  was  in  my  regimentals,  and  had  fairly  risked  my  person. 

"  Against  my  stipulation  and  without  my  knowledge  be 
forehand,  I  was  conducted  within  one  of  your  posts.  Your 
Excellency  will  conceive  my  sensation  on  this  occasion,  and 
will  imagine  how  much  more  I  must  have  been  affected,  by 
a  refusal  to  reconduct  me  back  the  next  night  as  I  had  been 
brought.  Thus  become  a  prisoner,  I  had  to  concert  my 
escape.  I  quitted  my  uniform,  and  was  passed  another  way 
in  the  night,  without  the  American  posts  to  neutral  ground, 
and  informed  I  was  beyond  all  armed  parties,  and  left  to 
press  for  New  York.  I  was  taken  at  Tarry  town  by  some 
volunteers.  Thus,  as  I  have  had  the  honor  to  relate,  was  I 
betrayed  (being  adjutant-general  of  the  British  army)  into 
the  vile  condition  of  an  enemy  in  disguise  within  your  posts. 

"  Having  avowed  myself  a  British  officer,  I  have  nothing 
to  reveal  but  what  relates  to  myself,  which  is  true,  on  the 
honor  of  an  officer  and  a  gentleman.  The  request  I  have  to 
make  to  your  Excellency,  and  I  am  conscious  I  address  myself 
well,  that  in  any  rigor  feeling  may  dictate,  a  decency  of  con 
duct  toward  me  may  mark,  that,  though  unfortunate,  I  am 
branded  with  nothing  dishonorable,  as  no  motive  could  be 
mine  but  the  service  of  my  King,  and  as  I  was  an  involuntary 
impostor. 

"  Another  request  is,  that  I  may  be  permitted  to  write 
an  open  letter  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and  another  to  a  friend 
for  clothes  and  linen. 

"  I  take  the  liberty  to  mention  the  condition  of  some 
gentlemen  at  Charlestown,  who,  being  either  on  parole  or 
under  protection,  were  engaged  in  a  conspiracy  against  us. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  93 

Though  their  situation  is  not  exactly  similar,  they  are  ob 
jects  who  may  be  set  in  exchange  for  me,  or  are  persons 
whom  the  treatment  I  receive  may  affect. 

"  It  is  no  less,  sir,  in  a  confidence  in  the  generosity  of 
your  mind,  than  on  account  of  your  superior  station,  that  I 
have  chosen  to  importune  you  with  this  letter. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  with  great  respect,  sir,  your 
Excellency's  most  obedient  and  most  humble  servant, 

"  JOHN  ANDRE,  Adjutant-General. 

"  His  Excellency  General  WASHINGTON." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

WASHINGTON  lodged  at  Fishkill,  eighteen  miles  from 
West  Point,  on  the  night  of  September  24th,  and  early  the 
next  morning  (the  day  appointed  for  Clinton  to  ascend  the 
river  and  receive  the  surrender  of  the  post  in  the  Highlands) 
he  and  his  companions  reached  the  vicinity  of  Arnold's  quar 
ters,  where  they  intended  to  breakfast.  He  and  two  or  three 
officers  turned  aside  to  inspect  a  redoubt,  while  Lafayette, 
Hamilton,  and  other  young  officers,  rode  forward  with  a 
message  from  their  chief  to  Mrs.  Arnold,  bidding  her  not  to 
delay  breakfast  on  his  account. 

While  these  officers  were  at  table  with  Arnold  and  his 
wife,  a  courier  arrived  with  a  letter  to  the  general.  It  was 
Jameson's  letter,  brought  by  Allen,  telling  Arnold  of  the 
arrest  of  "  John  Anderson,"  and  the  sending  of  the  papers 
found  in  his  boots  to  Washington.  Arnold  glanced  at  the 
letter,  sat  a  few  minutes  in  general  conversation,  and  then 
asked  to  be  excused.  His  wife  perceived  anxiety  in  his 
countenance,  and,  leaving  the  table,  followed  him  out  of 


94  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

the  room.  He  commanded  Allen  not  to  mention  that  he 
had  brought  a  letter  from  Jameson  ;  ordered  a  horse  to  be 
saddled  and  brought  to  the  door  immediately,  and  ascend 
ing  to  his  wife's  chamber,  to  which  she  had  retired,  he  told 
her  in  a  few  hurried  words  of  his  perilous  situation,  and  that 
his  life  depended  upon  his  instant  flight  and  reaching  the 
British  lines  in  safety. 

This  awful  message  smote  the  young  wife  and  mother 
fearfully.  She  screamed  and  fell  at  his  feet  in  a  swoon.  He 
had  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Leaving  her  in  the  care  of  her 
maid,  he  kissed  their  sleeping  babe  and  hurried  to  the  break 
fast-room.  Telling  the  guests  that  his  wife  had  been  taken 
ill  suddenly,  and  that  he  was  called  in  haste  over  to  West 
Point  and  would  return  presently,  he  mounted  the  horse  at 
the  door,  dashed  down  the  bridle-path  to  the  river  half  a. 
mile  distant,  snatched  his  pistols  from  the  holsters  as  he  dis 
mounted,  and,  summoning  the  crew  of  his  barge,  he  entered 
it  and  ordered  them  to  pull  into  the  middle  of  the  stream 
and  row  swiftly  down  the  river,  for  he  bore  a  flag  to  the 
Vulture,  and  must  return  soon  to  meet  General  Washington, 

Arnold  sat  in  the  prow  of  his  barge.  When  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  Vulture  he  raised  a  white  handkerchief  upon 
a  walking-stick.  They  soon  reached  the  vessel.  Arnold  as 
cended  to  her  deck,  where  he  met  Colonel  Robinson,  and 
briefly  related  to  him  the  unhappy  state  of  affairs.  He  tried, 
in  vain,  to  lure  the  crew  of  his  barge  into  the  king's  service. 
"  If  General  Arnold  likes  the  King  of  England,  let  him  serve 
him  ;  we  love  our  country,  and  mean  to  live  or  die  in  sup 
port  of  her  cause,"  indignantly  exclaimed  James  Larvey,  the 
coxswain.  "  So  will  we,"  said  his  companions.  They  were 
sent  on  shore  at  Teller's  Point  by  the  same  flag.  Arnold 
sent  a  letter  to  Washington,  covering  one  to  his  wife.  He  as- 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


95 


sured  the  commander-in-chief  that  his  wife  was  innocent  of 
all  knowledge  of  his  act,  and  entreated  him  to  extend  his 
protection  to  her  and  her  child.  He  also  exonerated  his 
military  family  from  all  participation  in  his  designs. 

By  the  same  flag  Colonel  Robinson  wrote  to  Washing 
ton,  asserting  that,  under  the  circumstances  which  led  to 
Andre's  arrest,  he  could  not  detain  him  without  "  the  great 
est  violation  of  flags  and  contrary  to  the  usage  of  all  na 
tions"  ;  and,  assuming  that  the  American  commander  would 
see  the  matter  in  the  same  light,  he  desired  that  he  would 
order  Major  Andre  to  be  "  set  at  liberty,  and  allowed  to 
return  immediately." 

The  Vulture  returned  to  New  York  the  same  evening, 
and  early  the  next  morning  Arnold  conveyed  to  General 


THE  ROBINSON  HOUSE. — (From  a  Sketch  by  the  Aulhor  in  1849.) 

Clinton  the  first  intelligence  of  the  capture  of  Major  Andre. 
Let  us  go  back  to  Arnold's  quarters  at  Robinson's  house,  in 
the  Highlands. 

Washington  arrived  at  Arnold's  quarters  an  hour  after 


96  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

the  traitor's  flight.  Informed  of  the  illness  of  Mrs.  Arnold, 
and  that  her  husband  had  gone  over  to  West  Point,  the 
chief  took  a  hurried  breakfast  and  proceeded  thither  with 
all  his  staff,  excepting  Colonel  Hamilton.  As  they  touched 
the  west  shore  of  the  river  they  were  surprised  at  not  re 
ceiving  the  usual  cannon-salute. 

"  Is  not  General  Arnold  here  ?  "  Washington  asked  Colo 
nel  Lamb. 

"  No,  sir,"  Lamb  replied  ;  "  he  has  not  been  here  for  two 
days,  nor  have  I  heard  from  him  in  that  time." 

Meanwhile  Hamilton,  as  Washington's  private  secretary, 
had  received  and  examined  the  papers  taken  from  Andre's 
stocking  ;  also  the  letters  of  Jameson,  and  that  of  the  pris 
oner  to  Washington  revealing  the  conspiracy.  Hamilton 
immediately  sought  his  chief.  He  met  him  on  his  way  up 
from  the  river,  and  told  him  of  his  discovery  of  Arnold's 
treason  and  of  his  flight  to  the  Vulture.  Men  were  dis 
patched  to  Verplanck's  Point  to  intercept  him,  but  they 
arrived  too  late.  An  order  was  sent  to  Colonel  Jameson 
to  forward  Andre  to  West  Point  immediately.  He  said  to 
Lafayette  and  Knox,  sadly  : 

"  Arnold  is  a  traitor  !  Whom  can  we  trust  now  ?  "  The 
whole  plot  was  revealed,  and  the  danger  impending  over 
the  post  was  made  manifest. 

Yet  Washington  gave  no  outward  sign  of  excitement.  He 
sent  couriers  in  all  directions  with  orders  for  the  strength 
ening  of  every  redoubt,  and  ordered  Greene  to  put  the  army 
at  Tappaan  in  readiness  to  move  toward  West  Point  at  a 
moment's  warning.  But  it  was  soon  evident  that  the  danger 
was  overpast.  Informed  of  Mrs.  Arnold's  sad  condition,  he 
said  to  one  of  his  aides,  "  Go  to  her  and  inform  her  that, 
though  my  duty  required  that  no  means  should  be  neglected 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


97 


to  arrest  General  Arnold,  I  have  great  pleasure  in  acquaint 
ing  her  that  he  is  now  safe  on  board  a  British  vessel  of  war." 

Andre  was  brought  to  the  Robinson  house  early  on  the 
26th  (September,  1780).  He  had  been  aroused  from  slumber 
at  midnight  to  begin  a  dreary  journey  in  a  falling  rain,  un 
der  a  strong  escort  led  by  Lieutenant  King.  On  the  way 
they  were  joined  by  Major  Tallrnadge  and  one  or  two  other 
officers.  Tallmadge  was  made  the  special  custodian  of  the 
prisoner  from  that  time  until  his  execution  ;  and  on  the 
evening  of  the  26th  Andre  was  conveyed  to  West  Point. 

General  Greene  was  in  chief  command  of  the  American 
army  during  Washington's  absence.  Its  headquarters  were 
at  Tappaan  (usually  called  Orangetown),  a  short  distance 
from  the  west  shore  of  the  Hudson.  Washington  sent  secret 
orders  to  Greene  to  receive  the  prisoner. 


"  THE  '76  STONE  HOUSE." 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  Andre,  with  a  strong  escort, 
went  down  the  river  in  a  barge,  landed  at  the  King's  Ferry, 
and  journeyed  to  Tappaan  on  horseback.  There  he  was 
lodged  in  a  substantial  stone  dwelling  belonging  to  Mr. 


98  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

Maybie,  known,  in  our  day,  as  a  tavern,  by  the  name  of 
""  The  '76  Stone  House." 

On  this  journey  of  a  day,  Tallmadge  and  Andre,  who  were 
about  equal  in  age,  had  much  free  conversation.  The  pris 
oner's  custodian,  like  every  one  else,  was  fascinated  by  the 
young  soldier,  and  was  deeply  impressed  with  sympathy  for 
him.  In  reply  to  a  question  by  Tallmadge,  Andre  said  that, 
in  the  enterprise  in  which  he  was  engaged,  all  he  sought  was 
military  glory,  the  applause  of  his  king  and  his  country,  and  per 
haps  a  brigadier  ship.  He  asked  Tallmadge  in  what  light  he 
would  be  regarded  by  General  Washington  and  a  military 
tribunal.  Tallmadge  tried  to  evade  an  answer,  but,  being 
pressed,  he  said  : 

"  I  had  a  much-loved  classmate  in  Yale  College  by  the 
name  of  Nathan  Hale,  who  entered  the  army  in  1775.  Im 
mediately  after  the  battle  of  Long  Island,  General  Washing 
ton  wanted  information  respecting  the  strength,  position, 
and  probable  movements  of  the  enemy.  Captain  Hale  ten 
dered  his  services,  went  over  to  Brooklyn,  and  was  taken 
just  as  he  was  passing  the  outposts  of  the  enemy  on  his 
return.  Do  you  remember  the  sequel  of  the  story  ?  '  '  Yes," 
said  Andre,  "  he  was  hanged  as  a  spy.  But  you  surely  do 
not  consider  his  case  and  mine  alike."  "  Yes,  precisely 
similar ;  and  similar  will  be  your  fate,"  said  Tallmadge. 

In  general  orders  on  the  26th  Greene  proclaimed,  "  Trea 
son  of  the  blackest  dye  was  discovered  yesterday."  He  then 
gave  a  general  account  of  the  affair  to  the  army  and  the  peo 
ple.  It  created  wide-spread  indignation  and  alarm,  but  the 
latter  feeling  was  tempered  by  the  concluding  words  of  the 
order :  "  Arnold  has  made  his  escape  to  the  enemy  ;  but  Ma 
jor  Andre,  the  adjutant -general  of  the  British  army,  who 
came  out  as  a  spy  to  negotiate  the  business,  is  our  prisoner." 


JOHN  ANDRE.  99 

The  news  of  the  capture  of  Andre,  and  this  ominous  gen 
eral  order,  produced  intense  excitement  in  both  armies,  and 
especially  within  the  British  lines.  The  evident  sympathy 
of  Washington  and  some  of  his  officers  for  the  prisoner 
when  he  was  brought  to  Tappaan,  created  much  feeling  in 
the  American  army.  Some  of  the  officers  declared  that  if 
they  were  not  to  be  protected  against  such  treacherous 
conduct,  and  this  spy  be  pardoned,  it  was  time  to  leave  the 
army.  In  a  manuscript  account  of  the  affair  now  before  me, 
written  by  Elias  Boudinot,  LL.  D.,  the  eminent  American 
commissary  of  prisoners,  he  observed  : 

"  Though  these  were  their  sentiments,  they  were  only 
murmured  from  tent  to  tent.  A  few  days  convinced  them 
that  they  had  a  commander-in-chief  who  knew  how  to  make 
his  compassion  for  the  unfortunate  and  his  duty  to  those 
who  depended  upon  him  for  protection  to  harmonize  and 
influence  his  conduct.  He  treated  Major  Andre  with  the 
greatest  tenderness,  while  he  carried  the  sentence  of  the 
council  into  execution  according  to  the  laws  of  war.  At 
New  York,  when  the  first  account  of  Andre's  capture  and 
condemnation  arrived,  the  officers  and  citizens  laughed  at 
the  idea  that  the  '  rebels '  would  dare  to  execute  the  adju 
tant-general  of  the  British  army ;  but,  if  it  should  take 
place,  vengeance  in  every  form  should  be  taken  sevenfold. 
But,  when  it  was  known  that  Andre  was  no  more,  General 
Clinton  shut  himself  up  for  three  days,  and  every  one  at  the 
Coffee-House  and  other  public  places  hung  their  heads,  and 
scarcely  an  observation  relative  to  it  escaped  their  lips." 

Washington  had  returned  to  his  headquarters  at  Tap 
paan,*  and  ordered  a  meeting  of  a  board  of  officers  on  the 

*  This  building  is  yet  standing,  and  is  in  nearly  the  same  condition  as  it  was  in 
1780,  at  which  time  it  belonged  to  John  de  Windt,  a  native  of  the  Island  of  St. 

8 


IOO 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


29th,  to  make  careful  inquiries  and  report  their  opinion  "  of 
the  light  in  which  he  [the  prisoner]  ought  to  be  considered, 
and  what  punishment  ought  to  be  inflicted."  The  board 
consisted  of  six  major-generals  and  eight  brigadier-generals. 
The  court  of  inquiry  was  held  in  the  Dutch  church  at 


WASHINGTON'S  HEADQUARTERS  AT  TAPPAAN. 

Tappaan.  General  Greene  presided.  When  Andre  was 
brought  before  his  judges,  he  gave  a  detailed  statement  of 
the  facts,  and  did  not  deny  any  of  the  specifications  pre 
sented  by  the  judge-advocate,  John  Laurance.  After  careful 
deliberation  the  board  reported  that  the  prisoner  "  ought  to 
be  considered  as  a  spy  from  the  enemy,  and  that,  agreeably  to 
the  law  and  usages  of  nations,  it  is  their  opinion  he  ought  to 
suffer  death."  "Andr6  met  the  result,"  wrote  Colonel  Ham- 


Thomas.  By  a  peculiar  arrangement  of  bricks  in  its  front  wall,  the  date  of  its 
construction — 1700 — may  be  seen.  In  a  large  room  which  Washington  occupied 
as  his  office,  and  where  Andre's  death-warrant  was  signed,  the  spacious  fireplace  was 
surrounded  by  Dutch  pictorial  tiles,  when  I  visited  and  made  the  above  sketch,  in 
1849- 


JOHN  ANDRE.  IO1 

ilton,  "  with  manly  firmness.  '  I  foresee  my  fate/  he  said, 
'and  though  I  pretend  not  to  play  the  hero,  or  be  indifferent 
to  life,  yet  I  am  reconciled  to  whatever,  may  happenycbn- 
scious  that  misfortune,  not  guilt,  has  brought  Jt  up^'tn^J  ;'  /, 

Washington  approved  the  finding  of  the  court  of  in 
quiry,  and  sentenced  Andre  to  be  hung  as  a  spy  on  the  first 
day  of  October,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He  sent  an 
account  of  the  proceedings  of  the  court  and  a  letter  from 
Andre  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton.* 

Meanwhile  great  exertions  had  been  made  to  save 
Andre  from  his  sad  fate.  General  Clinton  wrote  to  Wash 
ington  (September  26th)  that  Andre  was  not  a  legal  spy,  for 
a  flag  of  truce  had  been  sent  to  receive  him,  and  passports 
were  granted  for  his  return.  On  receiving  the  papers  from 
Washington,  Sir  Henry  wrote  a  second  letter  to  the  Ameri 
can  chief  commander,  expressing  the  opinion  that  the  board 
"  had  not  been  rightly  informed  of  all  the  circumstances/' 
and  asked  a  postponement  of  the  execution  until  a  confer 
ence  might  be  held.  The  request  was  granted.  The  exe 
cution  was  postponed  one  day.  General  Greene  met  Gen 
eral  Robertson  and  others  at  Dobb's  Ferry,  not  as  an  officer, 
but  as  a  private  gentleman,  but  nothing  occurred  to  war 
rant  a  change  in  the  opinion  of  the  board  of  inquiry  and 
the  decision  of  Washington. f 

*  This  letter  evinced  great  tenderness  of  feeling  toward  his  commander.  He 
declared  that  the  events  connected  with  his  coming  within  the  American  lines  were 
contrary  to  his  own  intentions,  and  avowed  the  object  of  his  letter  to  be  to  remove 
from  Sir  Henry's  mind  any  suspicion  that  he  (Andr6)  imagined  he  was  bound  by 
his  Excellency's  orders  to  expose  himself  to  what  had  happened. 

•j-  General  Robertson  bore  a  letter  from  Arnold  to  Washington,  which  he  re 
served  until  all  oral  arguments  had  failed,  when  he  read  it  to  the  gentlemen  of  the 
conference.  Had  there  been  a  chance  for  coming  to  an  understanding  in  regard 
to  Andre  before,  this  impudent  letter  from  the  traitor  would  have  destroyed  it. 
Arnold  said  :  "  If,  after  this  just  and  candid  opinion  of  Major  Andre's  case,  the 


102  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

The  Americans  would  gladly  have  saved  the  life  of  An- 
dr£  could  Arnold*  ha've  been  given  up  to  them.  Efforts  to 
thai,  e'nd  were  made.'  Unofficial  overtures  were  made  to 
Clintorr  to  exchange'  Arnold  for  Andre,  but  honor  forbade 
trie  act.  All  efforts  in  this  direction  failed. 

On  the  morning  of  October  ist,  the  day  on  which  Andre 
expected  to  die,  he  wrote  the  following  touching  note  to 
Washington : 

"  SIR  :  Buoyed  above  the  terror  of  death  by  the  con 
sciousness  of  a  life  devoted  to  honorable  pursuits,  and 
stained  with  no  action  that  can  give  remorse,  I  trust  that  the 
request  1  make  to  your  Excellency  at  this  serious  period,  and 
which  is  to  soften  my  last  moments,  will  not  be  rejected. 

"  Sympathy  toward  a  soldier  will  surely  induce  your 
Excellency  and  a  military  tribunal  to  adapt  the  mode  of  my 
death  to  the  feelings  of  a  man  of  honor. 

"  Let  me  hope,  sir,  that  if  aught  in  my  character  im 
presses  you  with  esteem  toward  me,  if  aught  in  my  misfor 
tune  marks  me  as  the  victim  of  policy  and  not  of  resent 
ment,  I  shall  experience  the  operation  of  those  feelings  in 
your  breast  by  being  informed  that  I  am  not  to  die  on  a 
gibbet. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  your  Excellency's  most  obedient 
and  most  humble  servant,  JOHN  ANDRE." 

Colonel  Hamilton  urged  Washington  to  comply  with 
Andre's  request,  but  the  commander  could  not  grant  it. 

board  of  general  officers  adhere  to  their  former  opinion,  I  shall  suppose  it  dictated 
by  passion  and  resentment  ;  and,  if  that  gentleman  should  suffer  the  severity  of  the 
sentence,  I  shall  think  myself  bound  by  every  tie  of  duty  and  honor  to  retaliate  on 
such  unhappy  persons  of  your  army  as  may  fall  in  my  power,  that  the  respect  due 
to  flags  and  the  law  of  nations  may  be  better  understood  and  observed,," 


JOHN  ANDRE.  103 

Unwilling  to  wound  the  feelings  of  the  prisoner  by  a  re 
fusal,  he  did  not  reply  to  the  note. 

On  the  preceding  evening  Andr6  wrote  letters  to  his 
mother,  sisters,  Miss  Seward,  and  other  friends,  and  made  a 
pen-and-ink  sketch  of  himself  sitting  at  a  table  with  a  pen 
in  his  hand.  On  the  following  morning  he  made  a  rude 
sketch,  with  pen  and  ink,  depicting  the  scene  of  his  passage 
from  the  Vulture  to  the  shore,  when  he  went  to  meet  Ar 
nold.* 

At  noon  on  the  2d  day  of  October,  1780,  Major  Andre 
was  executed  upon  an  eminence  near  Tappaan  village,  in  the 
presence  of  a  vast  concourse  of  people.  He  was  dressed  in 
full  military  costume  and  white  top-boots.  He  was  taken 
to  the  gallows — a  cross-piece  between  two  moderate-sized 
trees — by  a  procession  of  nearly  all  the  field-officers,  except 
ing  Washington  and  his  staff,  who  remained  at  headquar 
ters.  General  Greene  led  the  cavalcade,  which  passed  be 
tween  two  files  of  soldiers,  extending  from  the  prison  up  to 
the  fatal  spot.  The  prisoner's  step  was  firm,  and  he  did  not 
falter  until  he  saw  the  gallows,  and  knew  he  was  to  be 
hanged  as  a  felon  and  not  shot  as  a  soldier.  His  hesitation 
was  only  for  a  moment. 

A  baggage-wagon,  bearing  a  plain  pine  coffin,  had  been 
driven  under  the  gallows.  A  grave  had  been  dug  near  by. 
Into  the  wagon  the  prisoner  stepped  and,  taking  the  rope 
from  the  hangman,  adjusted  it  to  his  neck,  and  tied  a  white 
handkerchief  over  his  eyes.  Then  Adjutant-General  Scam- 

*  The  size  of  the  original  drawing  from  which  the  above  sketch  was  made  is 
twelve  by  seven  inches.  It  will  be  observed  that  Andre"  has  but  one  oarsman,  in 
stead  of  two,  as  was  the  case.  The  drawing  was  found  on  his  table  by  his  servant 
after  the  execution,  and  delivered  by  him  at  New  York  to  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Crosby  of  Andre's  regiment  (the  Twenty-second),  and  who,  on  his  return  to  Eng 
land,  caused  a.fac-simi!e  of  it  to  be  produced  by  the  mezzotint  process  of  engraving. 


104 


THE   TWO   SPIES. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  105 

mell  read  the  order  for  the  execution  in  a  clear  voice,  and 
at  its  conclusion  told  Andre  that  he  might  speak  if  he  de 
sired  it.  The  prisoner  lifted  the  handkerchief  from  his 
eyes  and,  bowing  courteously  to  General  Greene  and  his 
officers,  said  in  firm  voice,  "  All  I  request  of  you,  gentle 
men,  is  that,  while  I  acknowledge  the  propriety  of  my  sen 
tence,  you  will  bear  me  witness  that  I  die  like  a  brave 
man."  In  an  undertone  he  murmured,  "  It  will  be  but  a 
momentary  pang."  The  wagon  was  driven  swiftly  from 
under  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  ceased  to  exist. 

"  Thus  died  in  the  bloom  of  life,"  wrote  Dr.  Thacher,  a 
surgeon  of  the  Continental  army,  who  was  present,  "  the 
accomplished  Major  Andre,  the  pride  of  the  royal  army  and 
the  valued  friend  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton."  The  same  author 
ity  wrote  that  Andre's  regimentals,  which  had  been  brought 
up  to  Tappaan  by  his  servant,  were  handed  to  that  servant, 
and  he  was  buried  near  one  of  the  trees  which  formed  the 
gibbet. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

ALMOST  universal  sympathy  was  felt  and  expressed  for 
Major  Andre.  He  was  undoubtedly  an  involuntary  spy. 
The  court  of  inquiry  which  decided  his  fate  came  to  their 
conclusions  with  regret ;  but  duty,  the  law  of  nations,  and 
the  exigencies  of  war,  compelled  them  to  give  such  a  verdict 
as  they  did.  Washington  signed  his  death-warrant  with  re 
luctance  and  with  much  emotion.  All  the  American  officers 
were  moved  by  deep  sympathy  for  him.  Some  of  the 
younger  officers — Lafayette,  Hamilton,  Tallmadge,  and  oth 
ers — were  enamored  with  him,  and  became  attached  to  him. 


106  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

"  From  the  few  days  of  intimate  intercourse  I  had  with 
him,"  wrote  Tallmadge,  "  I  became  so  deeply  attached  to 
Major  Andre  that  I  could  remember  no  instance  when  my 
affections  were  so  fully  absorbed  by  any  man."  The  multi 
tude  who  saw  the  execution  were  deeply  moved  with  com 
passion.  Dr.  Thacher  says  the  tears  of  thousands  fell  on 
that  occasion.  The  event  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
both  armies.  The  king  specially  honored  the  memory  of 
Andre  by  ordering  a  notable  mural  monument  to  be  erected 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  near  the  "  Poets'  Corner."  A  pict 
ure  of  this  monument  is  seen  in  the  engraving.*  The  me 
morial  was  executed  in  statuary  marble,  and  is  about  seven 
and  a  half  feet  in  height.  It  represents  a  sarcophagus  with 
a  device  in  low  relief,  and  elevated  upon  a  paneled  pedestal, 
upon  which  are  appropriate  inscriptions. f  On  the  sarcoph 
agus  is  a  representation  of  Washington  and  his  officers  in 
his  tent  at  the  moment  when  he  received  the  report  of  the 
court  of  inquiry ;  at  the  same  time  a  messenger  has  arrived 


*  The  original  drawing  from  which  the  engraving  was  made  was  received  from 
London  in  1849  by  the  author  of  this  little  work,  together  with  a  copy  of  a  profile 
likeness  of  Andre" — simply  the  head  and  shoulders — said  to  have  been  drawn  by 
himself. 

f  Upon  a  panel  is  the  following  inscription  :  "  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Major 
JOHN  ANDRE",  who,  raised  to  the  rank  of  Adjutant-General  of  the  British  Army  in 
America,  and  employed  in  an  important  and  hazardous  enterprise,  fell  a  sacrifice 
to  his  zeal  for  his  king  and  country,  on  the  2d  of  October,  A.  D.  1780,  eminently  be 
loved  and  esteemed  by  the  army  in  which  he  served,  and  lamented  even  by  his 
foes.  His  gracious  sovereign,  KING  GEORGE  THE  THIRD,  has  caused  this  monu 
ment  to  be  erected." 

After  the  removal  of  Andre's  remains  to  Westminster  Abbey,  as  mentioned  in 
the  text,  the  following  inscription  was  cut  upon  the  base  of  the  pedestal : 

"The  remains  of  Major  JOHN  ANDRE"  were,  on  the  loth  of  August,  1821,  re 
moved  from  Tappaan  by  JAMES  BUCHANAN,  Esq.,  his  Majesty's  Consul  at  New 
York,  under  instructions  from  his  Royal  Highness  the  DUKE  OF  YORK,  and,  with 
the  permission  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter,  finally  deposited  in  a  grave  contiguous  to 
this  monument  on  the  28th  of  November,  1821." 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


107 


with  the  letter  of  Andre  to  Washington  asking  for  a  soldier's 
death.  On  the  right  is  a  guard  of  Continental  soldiers,  and 
a  tree  on  which  Andre  was  executed.  Two  men  are  pre- 


SACRED  fr 

MAJOR  J        AMDRB 


ANDRE'S  MONUMENT  IN  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

paring  the  prisoner  for  execution,  while  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree  sit  Mercy  and  Innocence.  On  the  top  of  the  sarcoph 
agus  is  the  British  lion,  and  the  figure  of  Britannia,  who 


108  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

is  lamenting  the  fate  of  Andre.  The  king  settled  a  pension 
upon  the  family  of  Andre,  and,  to  wipe  out  the  imputed 
stain  produced  by  his  death  as  a  spy,  the  honor  of  knight 
hood  was  conferred  upon  his  brother. 

As  related  in  the  inscription  on  the  pedestal  of  Andre's 
monument,  given  in  a  foot-note,  Mr.  Buchanan  caused  his  re 
mains  to  be  disinterred  and  sent  to  England.  Two  small 
cedar-trees  were  growing  near  the  grave  wherein  lay  his 
remains.  A  portion  of  one  of  these  was  sent  with  the  re 
mains,  and,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  consul,  the  duke  caused 
a  snuff-box  to  be  made  of  it  for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Demorest,  of 
Tappaan,  who  gave  Mr.  Buchanan  much  assistance  in  his 
undertaking.  It  was  elegant  in  design,  was  lined  with  gold, 
and  was  inscribed  with  the  words : 

"  From  his  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  York,  to  mark 
his  sense  of  the  Rev.  John  Demorest's  liberal  attention  upon 
the  occasion  of  the  removal  of  the  remains  of  the  late  Major 
Andre,  at  Tappaan,  on  the  loth  of  August,  1821." 

The  surviving  sisters  of  Andre  sent  a  silver  cup  to  Mr. 
Demorest,  with  a  suitable  inscription ;  also  an  inkstand  to 
the  British  consul. 

Two  monuments  have  been  erected  at  different  times  on 
the  spot  where  Andre  was  executed,  each  with  the  sole  pur 
pose  of  commemorating  this  very  important  event  in  our 
national  history,  and  to  mark  the  exact  locality  of  its  occur 
rence.  One  of  these  monuments  was  set  up  by  James  Lee,* 
a  public-spirited  New  York  merchant,  nearly  forty  years 

*  It  was  chiefly  through  the  liberality  and  personal  influence  of  Mr.  Lee  that 
the  funds  were  raised  for  procuring  the  fine  bronze  equestrian  statue  of  WASHING 
TON,  by  H.  K.  Brown,  at  Union  Square,  New  Vork.  That  was  the  first  statue 
erected  in  the  open  air  in  that  city,  and  is  not  surpassed  in  artistic  merit  by  any 
since  set  up  there. 


JOHN  ANDRE. 


109 


ago.  It  consisted  of  a  small  bowlder,  upon  the  upper  surface 
of  which  were  cut  the  words,  "  ANDRE  WAS  EXECUTED 
OCTOBER  2,  1780."  It  was  on  the  right  side  of  a  lane  which 
ran  from  the  highway  from  Tappaan  village  to  old  Tappaan, 
on  the  westerly  side  of  a  large  peach-orchard,  and  about  a 
mile  from  Washington's  headquarters.  I  visited  the  spot 
in  1849,  and  made  a  drawing  of  this  simple  memorial-stone 
for  my  "  Pictorial  Field  Book  of  the  Revolution."  In  a  foot 
note  of  that  work  (vol.  i,  p.  772)  I  said,  "  A  more  elegant 
and  durable  monument  should  be  erected  on  the  spot." 


BOWLDER-MONUMENT. 

A  "  more  elegant  and  durable  monument "  was  placed 
on  the  same  spot  a  few  years  ago  by  another  public-spirited 
New  York  merchant,  Mr.  Cyrus  W.  Field,  and  bears  an  in 
scription  written  by  the  late  Rev.  Arthur  Penrhyn  Stanley, 
the  Dean  of  Westminster.  When  that  eminent  divine  and 
earnest  friend  of  our  country  and  admirer  of  our  free  insti 
tutions  was  about  to  visit  the  United  States  in  1878,  he  made 


1 10  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

a  list  of  the  objects  and  localities  which  he  desired  to  see 
while  here.  Among  these  was  the  place  of  Andre's  execu 
tion. 

While  Dean  Stanley  was  visiting  Mr.  Field  at  his  coun 
try  residence  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  Hudson,  nearly 
opposite  Tappaan,  he  with  his  two  traveling  companions  and 
their  host  crossed  the  river,  and,  with  one  or  two  citizens  of 
Tappaan,  visited  places  of  historic  interest  in  the  vicinity. 
They  found  that  nothing  marked  the  place  of  Andre's  exe 
cution,  and  that  it  had  even  been  a  subject  of  controversy. 
The  bowlder-monument  had  been  removed  several  years 
before.  The  dean  expressed  his  surprise  and  regret  that  no 
object  indicated  the  locality  of  such  an  important  historical 
event,  when  Mr.  Field  said  he  would  erect  a  memorial-stone 
there  at  his  own  expense  upon  certain  conditions.  A  few 
days  afterward  (October,  1878)  he  wrote  to  a  citizen  of 
Tappaan : 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  erect  a  monument  on  *  Andre 
Hill'  [so  named  by  the  people  in  commemoration  of  the 
event  which  occurred  there],  and  the  dean  will  write  an  in 
scription,  if  the  people  who  own  the  land  will  make  a  grant 
of  about  twenty  square  feet  for  the  purpose." 

So  soon  as  it  became  known  that  Mr.  Field  proposed  to 
erect  a  memorial-stone  at  Tappaan,  a  correspondent  of  a 
New  York  morning  journal  denounced  the  intention,  upon 
the  wholly  erroneous  assumption  that  it  was  to  be  a  "  monu 
ment  in  honor  of  Major  Andre,  the  British  spy."  Other 
correspondents,  equally  uninformed,  followed  with  denun 
ciations.  A  storm  of  apparently  indignant  protests,  or 
worse,  ensued  ;  and  one  writer,  lacking  courage  to  give  his 
name,  made  a  threat  that,  if  Mr.  Field  should  set  up  a  me 
morial-stone  upon  the  place  where  Andre  was  executed, 


JOHN  ANDRE.  1 1  r 

"  ten  thousand  men  "  were  ready  to  pull  it  down  and  cast  it 
into  the  river !  These  writers,  many  of  whom  concealed 
their  real  names,  created  considerable  feeling  in  the  public 
mind  unfavorable  to  the  project,  and  elicited  a  multitude  of 
appeals  to  the  patriotism  and  the  prejudices  of  the  American 
people,  to  oppose  what  ? — a  phantom  ! 

This  intemperate  and  unwise  correspondence  continued 
several  weeks.  There  were  calm  defenders  of  Mr.  Field's 
motives  in  proposing-  to  erect  a  monument,  by  persons  who 
were  well  informed  and  had  a  clear  perception  of  the  intent 
and  importance  of  such  an  act.  The  discussion  was  fruitful 
of  some  good.  It  had  the  salutary  effect  of  calling  public 
attention  to  the  claims  of  NATHAN  HALE,  the  notable  mar 
tyr  spy  of  the  Revolution,  to  a  memorial  tribute — a  public 
recognition  of  his  virtues  and  his  deeds — which  had  been  so 
long  deferred  by  our  people.  These  claims  were  now  ear 
nestly  advocated,  not  only  by  Mr.  Field's  critics,  but  by  pa 
triotic  citizens.  Considerable  sums  of  money  were  offered 
for  the  laudable  purpose  of  erecting  a  suitable  monument  in 
the  city  of  New  York  to  the  memory  of  Hale.  Several  per 
sons  offered  one  hundred  dollars  each. 

Before  the  visit  of  Mr.  Field  and  the  dean,  Mr.  Henry 
Whittemore,  a  public-spirited  citizen  of  Tappan,  and  Secre 
tary  of  the  Rockland  County  Historical  Society,  had  found 
four  living  men  who  were  present  at  the  disinterment  of 
Andre's  remains  in  1821.  With  these  men  he  went  to  "An 
dre  Hill,"  where  they  identified  the  place  of  the  spy's 
grave.*  The  requisite  plot  of  ground  was  secured  by  Mr. 

*  Mr.  Whittemore  had  procured  this  identification  fully  six  months  before  the 
visit  of  Mr.  Field  and  his  guests,  with  the  view  to  have  a  memorial-stone  placed 
upon  the  spot.  He  had  consulted  with  the  owner  of  the  land  about  it.  The  latter 
believed  it  would  enhance  the  value  of  his  property,  and  favored  the  project. 


H2  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

Field,  who  was  compelled  to  buy  many  surrounding  acres 
at  an  exorbitant  price.  Then,  relying  upon  the  good  sense, 
the  intelligence,  and  the  patriotism  of  the  American  people 
for  a  just  appreciation  of  his  motives,  he  proceeded  to  have 
a  memorial-stone  prepared. 

Soon  after  Dean  Stanley  returned  home  he  wrote  the 
promised  inscription,  and,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Whittemore 
(January,  1879),  ne  said: 

"  I  have  sent  to  Mr.  Cyrus  W.  Field  the  inscription  sug 
gested.  Perhaps  you  will  kindly  see  that  the  facts  are  cor- 


£  —  .    &   • 


DEAN  STANLEY'S  AUTOGRAPH. 


rectly  stated.     It  is  desirable  that   the   inscription   should 
contain  neither  an  attack  nor  a  defense  of  Andre,  but  only 


JOHN  ANDRE.  113 

an  expression  of  sympathy  with  him  in  his  tragical  fate, 
and  with  Washington  for  the  difficult  circumstances  in  which 
the  judges  were  placed. 

"A  wreath  of  autumn  leaves  from  the    Hudson  I  had 
placed  on  the    monument  in  the    abbey   attracts  universal 
attention.      I  have  also  the  silver  medals  of  Washington's 
headquarters,  and  the  old  Dutch  church  at  Tappaan. 
"  I  remain,  yours  gratefully, 

"A.  P.  STANLEY."* 

On  the  2d  of  October,  1879,  tne  ninety-ninth  anniversary 
of  the  execution  of  Andre,  the  monument  prepared  by  Mr. 
Field's  order,  and  placed  over  the  spot  where  the  spy  was 
buried,  was  uncovered  in  the  presence  of  representatives  of 
the  Historical  Societies  of  New  York,  and  Rockland  County, 
of  officers  of  the  army  of  the  United  States,  of  the  news 
paper  press  and  other  gentlemen,  and  a  few  ladies.  At  noon, 
the  hour  of  the  day  when  Andre  was  executed,  Mr.  Field 
directed  the  workmen  to  uncover  the  memorial.  There  was 
no  pomp  or  ceremony  on  the  occasion.  Not  a  speech  was 
uttered,  nor  a  token  of  applause  given. 

From  "  Andre  Hill "  the  company  went  with  Mr.  Whitte- 
more  to  his  home  in  Washington's  headquarters  and  the 
room  in  which  Andre's  death-warrant  was  signed.  While 
there  the  neglect  of  the  memory  of  Nathan  Hale,  shown 
by  the  American  people,  was  spoken  of,  when  Mr.  Field 
said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  if  I  may  be  granted  permission,  I  will  erect 
a  monument  in  memory  of  Nathan  Hale  on  the  spot  where 


*  Above  may  be  seen  a  fac-simile  of  the  last  paragraph  of  Dean  Stanley's 
letter. 


114  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

he  suffered  death  in  the  city  of  New  York,  if  the  place  may 
be  found." 

Several  years  ago  Mr.  Field  made  a  similar  offer  to  the 
New  York  Historical  Society.*  More  than  thirty  years 
before,  he  was  a  contributor  to  the  fund  raised  to  erect 
the  modest  monument  in  memory  of  Hale  at  South  Co 
ventry,  delineated  on  page  26;  and  he  was  next  to  the 
largest  contributor  to  the  fund  for  procuring  the  bronze 
statue  of  a  captor  of  Andre  that  surmounts  the  monu 
ment  at  Tarrytown,  which  commemorates  that  important 
event. 

The  memorial-stone  erected  at  Tappaan  is  composed  of 
a  shaft  of  Quincy  gray  granite,  standing  upon  a  pedestal  of 
the  same  material.  The  whole  structure  is  about  nine  feet 
in  height  from  the  ground  to  the  apex.  It  is  perfectly 
chaste  in  design.  There  is  no  ornamentation.  The  granite 
is  highly  polished.  It  stands  upon  an  elevation,  about  two 
miles  from  the  Hudson  River,  and  thirty  yards  from  the 
boundary-line  between  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  and 
overlooks  a  beautiful  country,  f  On  its  west  side  it  bears 
the  following  inscription,  written  by  Dean  Stanley : 


*  The  letter  of  Mr.  Field  conveying  his  generous  offer  to  the  New  York  His 
torical  Society  (September,  1880)  was  referred  to  the  Executive  Committee.  They 
warmly  recommended  its  favorable  consideration  by  the  society.  In  their  report, 
referring  to  the  event  commemorated  by  the  memorial-stone  at  Tappaan,  the  com 
mittee  said  it  was  an  "event  which,  perhaps,  more  signally  than  any  other  act 
of  his  life,  illustrates  the  wisdom  and  firmness  of  Washington  under  circum 
stances  of  peculiar  trial,  in  which  even  his  devoted  followers  were  disposed 
to  question  his  humanity,  if  not  his  justice,  and  almost  to  fall  in  with  the  sen 
timental  calumny  of  the  day,  which  has  been  so  often  reviewed  and  refuted  as 
to  become  ridiculous.  The  memorial-stone  of  Andrews  execution  is  a  monument 
to  Washington." 

f  The  engraving  is  from  the  original  drawing  of  the  architect.  Just  below  the 
inscription,  at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft,  is  cut  "  ARTHUR  PENRHYN  STANLEY,  DEAN 
OF  WESTMINSTER." 


JOHN  ANDRE.  II 

"HERE  DIED,  OCTOBER  2,  1 780, 

MAJOR  JOHN  ANDR£,  OF  THE  BRITISH  ARMY, 

WHO,  ENTERING  THE  AMERICAN  LINES 

ON   A   SECRET   MISSION   TO    BENEDICT   ARNOLD, 

FOR   THE   SURRENDER   OF   WEST   POINT, 
WAS   TAKEN    PRISONER,   TRIED    AND    CONDEMNED   AS   A   SPY, 

HIS   DEATH, 
THOUGH   ACCORDING   TO   THE   STERN    RULE    OF   WAR, 

MOVED   EVEN    HIS    ENEMIES   TO    PITY  ; 
AND    BOTH   ARMIES   MOURNED   THE   FATE 

OF   ONE   SO   YOUNG   AND    SO    BRAVE. 
IN    1821    HIS   REMAINS   WERE   REMOVED    TO   WESTMINSTER   ABBEY. 

A   HUNDRED    YEARS   AFTER   THE   EXECUTION 

THIS   STONE   WAS   PLACED   ABOVE   THE   SPOT   WHERE   HE   LAY, 

BY   A   CITIZEN    OF   THE    UNITED    STATES,    AGAINST   WHICH   HE   FOUGHT, 

NOT   TO    PERPETUATE   THE   RECORD   OF   STRIFE, 

BUT   IN   TOKEN   OF  THOSE   BETTER   FEELINGS 

WHICH   HAVE   SINCE   UNITED    TWO   NATIONS, 

ONE    IN    RACE,    IN    LANGUAGE,   AND    IN    RELIGION, 

WITH   THE   HOPE   THAT   THIS    FRIENDLY    UNION 

WILL   NEVER    BE    BROKEN." 

On  the  north  face  : 

"  HE   WAS    MORE   UNFORTUNATE   THAN    CRIMINAL." 
"AN   ACCOMPLISHED    MAN   AND    GALLANT   OFFICER." 

GEORGE   WASHINGTON. 

The  first  of  these  two  lines  was  quoted  from  a  letter  of 
Washington  to  Count  de  Rochambeau,  October  10,  1780. 
(See  Sparks's  "  Life  and  Writings  of  Washington,"  vol.  vii, 
p.  241.)  The  second  line  is  from  the  sentence  of  a  letter 
written  by  Washington  to  Colonel  John  Laurens  on  the 
1 3th  of  October.  (See  Sparks,  vol.  vii,  p.  256.) 

On  the  north  face  of  the  stone  are  the  words  : 

"SUNT    LACRYM^   RERUM   ET    MENTEM   MORTALIA    TANGUNT." 

The  east  front  was  left  blank  for  another  inscription. 
Such,  in  a  few  sentences,  is  the  story  of  the  erection  of 
the  memorial-stone  at  Tappaan  by  Mr.  Field.     The  idea  was 


THE  TWO  SPIES. 


the  product  of  spontaneous  thought,  elicited  by  a  special 
occasion.  The  sole  object  to  be  attained  is  the  laudable 
and  patriotic  one  of  perpetuating,  by  a  visible  record,  the 
memory  of  one  of  the  most  important  events  in  our  history, 


MEMORIAL  AT  TAPPAAN. 

at  the  place  of  its  occurrence.  That  event  has  two  promi 
nent  aspects,  namely  :  the  courage,  patriotism,  faith  in  the 
American  people,  and  the  unswerving  fidelity  in  the  dis 
charge  of  a  momentous  trust,  of  our  beloved  Washington 
and  his  officers,  in  the  face  of  most  extraordinary  tempta 
tions  to  do  otherwise  ;  and  the  execution  as  a  spy  of  the 
adjutant  -  general  of  the  British  army,  while  that  army, 


JOHN  ANDRE.  \\j 

twenty  thousand  strong,  was  lying  only  a  few  miles  distant, 
and  supported  by  powerful  ships  of  war. 

These  were  the  events  to  be  commemorated  by  this 
memorial-stone,  and  not  the  name  or  character  of  any  indi 
vidual.  It  was  no  more  a  monument  "in  honor  of  Major 
Andre,  the  British  spy,"  than  was  the  monument  of  white 
marble,  twenty-five  feet  in  height,  which  was  erected  by  pa 
triotic  men,  in  1853,  to  mark  the  spot  at  Tarrytown  where 
the  spy  was  captured,  or  the  naming  of  the  rivulet  near 
which  it  stands  "  Andre  Brook."  Surely  every  intelligent 
and  right-minded  American,  clearly  comprehending  the 
truth  of  the  whole  matter,  will  award  to  Mr.  Field  the  meed 
of  praise  for  his  generous  and  patriotic  deed. 

An  attempt  was  made  on  the  night  of  November  3,  1885, 
to  destroy  the  beautiful  memorial-stone  at  Tappaan  by  an 
explosion  of  dynamite.  The  pedestal  was  shattered  into 
pieces,  but  the  shaft  was  only  shaken  from  its  perpendicular 
position.  This  crime  was  the  logical  result  of  persistent  mis 
representation  of  the  character  and  intent  of  the  memorial 
in  some  of  the  newspapers.  Twice  before,  attempts  had 
been  made  to  destroy  it ;  the  first  time  by  a  defacement  of 
the  inscription  by  a  misguided  person  who,  on  a  dark  night, 
battered  the  letters,  many  of  them  almost  beyond  recog 
nition.  The  destroyer*  left  a  small  American  flag  hanging 
over  the  monument  from  a  stick,  supported  by  a  pile  of 
stones,  upon  the  apex  ;  also  the  following  lines,  the  product, 
evidently,  of  one  moved  by  a  spirit  of  conscious  untruthful- 
ness,  or  of  profound  ignorance  of  the  character  of  the  object 
assailed  : 


*  It  was  ascertained  that  the  perpetrator  of  the  crime  was  a  "  crank  " — a  printer, 
in  the  city  of  New  York — who,  after  eluding  the  officers  of  the  law  for  some  time, 
finally  died. 


Ii8  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

"  Too  long  hath  stood  the  traitor's  shaft, 

A  monument  to  shame, 
Built  up  to  praise  the  traitor's  craft, 

To  sanctify  ill  fame. 
Are  freemen  bound  to  still  forbear, 

And  meekly  still  implore, 
When  conquered  foes  their  altars  rear 

Within  our  very  door  . 

"  This  vulgar  and  insulting  stone 

Would  honor  for  all  time, 
Not  sneaking  Andre's  death  alone, 

But  black  Ben  Arnold's  crime. 
And  they,  who  thus  can  glorify 

The  traitor  and  his  deeds, 
Themselves  high  treason  would  employ 

If  'twould  fulfill  their  needs. 

"  Americans  !  resolve,  proclaim 
That  on  our  own  dear  land, 
Never,  while  the  people  reign, 
Shall  treason's  statue  stand  ! 
And  he  who  dares  erect  it  next, 

On  fair  Columbia's  breast, 
With  furtive  or  with  false  pretext, 
Shall  dangle  from  its  crest !  " 

The  second  attempt  to  destroy  the  memorial-stone  was 
made  on  a  dark  night.  Nitro-glycerine  or  dynamite  was 
used  for  the  purpose.  The  explosion  was  heard  for  miles 
around.  The  perpetrator  of  the  deed  was  not  discovered. 
The  stones  of  the  pedestal  were  shattered,  but  the  shaft  re 
mained  in  an  upright  position. 

Mr.  Field  had  the  damages  to  the  memorial  repaired. 
He  designed  to  have  the  acres  around  it  fashioned  into  a 
handsome  little  park.  He  also  proposed  to  erect  within  the 
grounds  a  fire-proof  building  for  the  use  of  the  Rockland 
County  Historical  and  Forestry  Society  as  a  depository  of 
historical  and  other  relics  of  that  county,  the  building  to  be 


JOHN  ANDRE.  119 

presented  to  the  society,  and  the  park  to  the  citizens  of  Tap- 
paan,  as  a  free  gift.  The  outrage  of  November  3,  1885,  may 
frustrate  this  generous  plan. 

Two  days  after  that  outrage,  a  New  York  morning  jour 
nal  of  large  circulation  and  wide  influence  declared  that 
"the  malignity  with  which  the  people  about  Tappaan  regard 
Mr.  Field's  monument  to  Andre  appears  to  be  settled  and 
permanent."  To  this  grave  indictment  of  the  inhabitants  of 
a  portion  of  Rockland  County  as  participants  in  the  crime, 
that  people  responded  by  resolutions  unanimously  adopted 
at  an  indignation  meeting  held  at  the  Reformed  Church  at 
Tappaan  on  the  evening  of  the  9th.  They  denounced  the 
charge  as  utterly  untrue,  expressed  their  belief  that  no  per 
son  in  the  vicinity  had  "  the  remotest  connection  "  with  the 
crime  ;  that  it  was  desirable  to  have  the  place  of  Andre's 
execution  indicated  by  a  memorial-stone  with  a  suitable  in 
scription,  and  commended  Mr.  Field  for  his  zeal  in  perpetu 
ating  events  of  the  Revolution  in  such  a  manner.* 

In  the  foregoing  narrative  I  have  endeavored  to  present 
a  brief,  plain,  and  truthful  story  of  the  memorial  at  Tappaan, 
about  which  so  much  has  been  said  and  written.  I  have 
fashioned  it  from  trustworthy  materials.  I  have  simply  re 
corded  the  facts,  and  leave  the  readers  to  form  their  own 
conclusions. 

The  monument  at  Tarrytown  has  been  alluded  to.  It 
was  erected  in  1853,  on  the  spot  where  tradition  says  Major 
Andre  was  captured,  to  commemorate  that  event.  It  bore 
upon  a  tablet  the  following  inscription  : 

"  On  this  spot,  the  23d  of  September,  1780,  the  spy,  Major 

*  A  petition  addressed  to  the  Governor  of  the  State,  asking  him  to  assist  in  an 
effort  to  discover  the  perpetrator  of  the  crime,  was  signed  by  a  large  number  of  the 
most  respectable  citizens  of  Rockland  County. 


120 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


MONUMENT  AND  STATUE  AT  TARRYTOWN. 


JOHN  ANDRE.  I2i 

John  Andre,  Adjutant-General  of  the  British  Army,  was 
captured  by  John  Paulding,  David  Williams,  and  Isaac  Van 
Wart,  all  natives  of  this  county.  History  has  told  the  rest. 

"  The  people  of  Westchester  County  have  erected  this 
monument  as  well  to  commemorate  a  great  event  as  to  tes 
tify  their  high  estimation  of  that  integrity  and  patriotism 
which,  rejecting  every  temptation,  rescued  the  United 
States  from  most  imminent  peril  by  baffling  the  acts  of  a 
spy  and  the  plots  of  a  traitor.  Dedicated  October  7,  1853." 

The  citizens  of  Westchester  County,  desirous  of  giving 
more  significance  to  this  monument,  caused  its  conical  shaft 
to  be  removed,  and  in  its  place  erected  a  bronze  statue  of  a 
captor — a  young  volunteer  soldier.  This  statue  is  the  work 
of  the  accomplished  sculptor,  Mr.  O'Donovan,  of  New 
York. 

The  monument  and  statue  were  unveiled  in  the  presence 
of  thousands  of  spectators  on  the  centennial  of  the  event 
commemorated — the  23d  of  September,  1880.  On  that  occa 
sion  Samuel  J.  Tilden  presided.  A  prayer  was  offered  by 
the  venerable  son  of  one  of  the  captors,  Isaac  Van  Wart, 
and  an  oration  was  pronounced  by  Chauncey  M.  Depew. 
General  James  Husted  was  the  marshal  of  the  day. 

On  one  face  of  the  monument  is  the  old  inscription,  and 
upon  another,  next  to  the  highway,  is  a  fine  bronze  bas- 
relief  representing  the  scene  of  the  capture.  This  also  is 
from  the  atelier  of  Mr.  O'Donovan.  An  excellent  picture 
of  this  work  of  art  and  of  the  statue  may  be  found  in  the 
"  Memorial  Souvenir  of  the  Monument  Association,"  pre 
pared  by  Dr.  Nathaniel  C.  Husted,  secretary  of  the  asso 
ciation. 


MONODY  ON   MAJOR  ANDRE 


ANNA  SEWARD. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  MONODY. 


ANNA  SEWARD,  the  abiding  friend  and  ever-faithful  cor 
respondent  of  Major  Andre  until  his  death,  was  a  daughter 
of  Thomas  Seward,  the  canon-resident  of  Lichfield  Cathe 
dral.  She  was  born  at  Eyam,  in  Derbyshire,  England,  in 
1747.  Her  education,  superior  to  that  of  most  girls  of  her 
time,  was  superintended  by  her  father,  who  was  a  graduate 
of  Oxford,  a  man  of  great  moral  worth,  and  noted  for  his 
scholarship. 

Miss  Seward  evinced  a  taste  and  a  genius  for  poetic  com 
position  at  a  very  early  age,  and  before  she  reached  the 
period  of  young  womanhood  she  attracted  the  attention  of 
local  literary  characters.  She  became  a  great  favorite  of 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  who  was  a  native  of  Lichfield  and 
was  a  frequent  guest  at  the  house  of  her  father.  On  one 
occasion,  when  she  was  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  she 
wrote  a  clever  poetical  address  of  welcome  to  Dr.  Johnson, 
which  greatly  pleased  the  recipient.  Miss  Seward  is  often 
incidentally  mentioned  in  Boswell's  "  Life  of  Johnson." 
Writing  of  a  visit  at  Mr.  Se ward's  in  1775,  when  Anna  was 
twenty-eight  years  of  age,  Boswell,  Johnson's  shadow,  says, 
"  And  now,  for  the  first  time,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
his  celebrated  daughter,  Miss  Anna  Seward,  to  whom  I  have 
since  been  indebted  for  many  civilities." 

Miss  Seward's  first  acquaintance  with  young  Andre,  her 


126  THE   TWO   SPIES. 

interest  in  his  love-affair  with  Honora  Sneyd,  and  her  pleas 
ant  epistolary  and  personal  intercourse  with  him  until  his 
departure  for  America,  have  been  referred  to  in  the  early 
portions  of  the  brief  notice  of  that  young  soldier's  career 
contained  in  this  volume.  During  his  service  in  America 
she  was  his  constant  correspondent ;  and  she  first  informed 
him  of  the  death  of  Honora  a  short  time  before  his  own 
tragic  exit  from  earth. 

The  circumstances  attending  the  death  of  her  friend  in 
spired  Miss  Seward  to  write  her  most  notable  and  most 
admired  poem,  "  Monody  on  Major  Andre."  She  was  then 
thirty-three  years  old.  It  was  printed  for  the  author  at 
Lichfield  early  in  1781.  Being  consonant  in  its  utterances 
with  the  feelings  of  the  British  public  at  that  time,  it  had  a 
large  sale,  and  produced  a  powerful  sensation.  She  received 
congratulatory  letters  from  literary  people  and  others  in 
various  parts  of  the  kingdom.  No  man  was  more  delighted 
with  it  than  was  Dr.  Johnson,  "  the  colossus  of  English  litera 
ture." 

Johnson  was  a  fierce  Tory,  and  hated  the  Americans 
with  a  spirit  of  savage  ferocity.  On  one  occasion,  while  at 
Lichfield,  he  said, '"I  am  willing  to  love  all  mankind,  ex 
cepting  an  American."  He  called  them  "  rascals,"  "  robbers 
and  pirates,"  and  angrily  exclaimed,  "  I'd  burn  and  destroy 
them  !  "  Boswell  says  Miss  Seward,  who  was  present  at  this 
outburst  of  passion,  and  whose  feelings  were  favorable  to 
the  American  cause,  boldly  rebuked  Johnson,  saying,  "  Sir, 
this  is  an  instance  that  we  are  most  violent  against  those  we 
have  most  injured."  This  delicate  but  keen  reproach  irri 
tated  Johnson  still  more,  and,  says  Boswell,  "he  roared  out 
another  tremendous  volley,  which  one  might  fancy  could  be 
heard  across  the  Atlantic."  But  Johnson  and  Anna  Seward 


THE  AUTHOR   OF   THE  MONODY. 


127 


remained  good  friends  until  a  short  time  before  the  death  of 
the  former.  They  corresponded  with  each  other,  and  fre 
quently  met  in  social  circles. 

I  have  said  Dr.  Johnson  was  delighted  by  Miss  Seward's 
"  Monody."  He  exhibited  that  delight  in  the  most  public 
manner  by  writing  and  publishing  in  the  "  Gentleman's 
Magazine,"  over  his  own  signature,  the  following  poetic  epis 
tle  to  the  author : 

"To  Miss  SEWARD,  ON  HER  MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE: 

"  Above  the  frigid  etiquette  of  form, 
With  the  same  animated  feelings  warm, 
I  come,  fair  maid,  enamored  of  thy  lays, 
With  tribute  verse,  to  swell  the  note  of  praise. 
Nor  let  the  gentle  Julia's  *  hand  disclaim 
The  bold  intrusion  of  an  honest  strain. 
Nor  is  it  mine  alone — 'tis  the  full  voice 
Of  such  as  honor  with  no  vulgar  choice,t 
Of  such  as  feel  each  glowing  line  along 
Once  the  bright  subject  of  an  humble  song.J 
The  treasures  of  the  female  heart  make  known 
By  copying  the  soft  movements  of  her  own. 
Woman  should  walk  arrayed  in  her  own  robe, 
The  hope,  the  boast,  the  blessing  of  the  globe. 
"Shrewsbury.  S.  JOHNSON." 

Miss  Seward's  "  Monody  "  was  dedicated  to  Sir  Henry 
Clinton.  To  it  were  appended  three  letters  written  to  her 
by  young  Andre  immediately  after  his  betrothal  to  and 
personal  separation  from  Honora  Sneyd.  These  I  have  ap 
pended  to  the  "  Monody."  The  printed  copy  of  that  poem, 
before  me,  bears  the  autograph  signature  of  Anna  Seward 
at  the  end.  . 

*  Andre  in  his  correspondence  with  Miss  Seward  on  the  topic  of  Honora  ad- 
dressed  her  as  "  Julia." 

f  A  reading  society  at  Shrewsbury  is  here  alluded  to. 

\  Alluding  to  an  "  Essay  on  Woman,"  written  by  Johnson. 


128  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

It  was  not  long  after  Johnson's  poetical  epistle  to  the 
author  of  the  "  Monody  "  appeared  before  an  interruption  of 
the  goodly  feeling  between  him  and  his  fair  friend  occurred. 
In  1782  Johnson's  "  Lives  of  the  British  Poets"  appeared, 
in  which  he  severely  criticised  the  poetry  of  her  cherished 
friend  Thomas  Hayley.  Ever  ready  and  prompt  to  defend 
heroically  those  she  had  learned  to  esteem,  she  instantly 
took  fire  at  the  attack,  and  she  wrote  letters  to  her  friends 
which  were  far  from  complimentary  to  Johnson.  To  Hay- 
ley  she  wrote : 

"  You  have  seen  Dr.  Johnson's  '  Lives  of  the  Poets/ 
They  have  excited  your  generous  indignation.  A  heart  like 
Hayley 's  would  shrink  astonished  to  perceive  a  mind  so 
enriched  with  the  power  of  genius  capable  of  such  cool 
malignity.  Yet  the  '  Gentleman's  Magazine  '  praised  these 
unworthy  efforts  to  blight  the  laurels  of  undoubted  fame. 
Oh,  that  the  venom  may  fall  where  it  ought !  " 

Animadversions  by  Miss  Seward  more  severe  than  this 
found  their  way,  without  her  consent,  into  the  public  prints, 
and  deeply  offended  Dr.  Johnson.  The  breach  thus  made 
was  never  healed.  Miss  Seward  refused  to  retract  a  word, 
but  persisted  in  her  utterances.  Sometimes,  even  after  the 
death  of  Dr.  Johnson,  in  1784,  they  were  spiced  with  at 
tacks  upon  his  personal  character.  These  attacks  drew 
from  Boswell  a  defense  of  his  dead  friend,  whom  he  almost 
adored,  and  in  1793  he  and  Miss  Seward  carried  on  a  spirited 
controversy  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine." 

Miss  Seward's  writings  in  verse  and  prose  were  quite 
voluminous.  The  latter,  consisting  of  her  literary  corre 
spondence  from  1784  to  1807,  was  published  in  six  volumes 
in  the  latter  year.  Her  poetical  works,  with  extracts  from  her 
literary  correspondence,  edited  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  were 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  MONODY.  129 

published  in  three  volumes  in  1810.  Next  to  her  "  Mono 
dy,"  in  point  of  excellence  and  popularity,  was  her  "  Elegy 
on  Captain  James  Cook,"  the  famous  circumnavigator  of 
the  globe.  Of  this  performance  Sir  Walter  Scott  said,  "  It 
conveyed  a  high  impression  of  the  original  power  of  the 
author." 

The  literary  fame  of  Anna  Seward  has  not  been  endur 
ing,  and  she,  who  was  a  conspicuous  figure  in  the  world  of 
letters  in  England  during  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  is  now  almost  forgotten.  Her  known  social  rela 
tions  to  Major  Andre,  and  her  "  Monody,"  have  perpetuated 
her  memory  in  the  minds  of  Americans.  It  is  said  that, 
when  she  was  fully  informed  of  all  the  circumstances  con 
nected  with  the  death  of  Andre,  she  was  satisfied  that  she 
had  been  unjust  toward  Washington  in  her  animadversions 
upon  his  character  in  her  poem,  and  expressed  a  regret  that 
she  had  so  misjudged  him. 

Miss  Seward,  in  a  letter  to  her  friend  Miss  Ponsonby,  re 
lated  that  several  years  after  the  peace  a  friend  of  Washing 
ton's,  an  American  officer,  introduced  himself  to  her  (Miss 
Seward),  saying  he  was  commissioned  by  General  Wash 
ington  to  call  upon  her  and  assure  her  that  no  circumstance 
of  his  life  had  been  so  mortifying  as  to  be  censured  in  the 
"  Monody  "  on  Andre  as  the  pitiless  author  of  his  ignomin 
ious  fate ;  that  he  had  labored  to  save  him  ;  and  that  he  re 
quested  his  friend  to  leave  with  Miss  Seward  a  package  of 
papers  which  he  had  sent,  consisting  of  copies  of  the  records 
of  the  court-martial,  etc.  "  The  American  officer  referred 
to,"  says  Sargent,  "  is  supposed  to  have  been  Colonel  Hum 
phreys." 

Various  opinions  have  been  expressed  concerning  the 
writings  of  Miss  Seward.  The  literary  circle  of  Lichfield, 


130  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

of  which  she  was  the  central  figure,  appears  to  have  been  a 
mutual-admiration  society.  The  productions  of  each  mem 
ber  appear  to  have  been  eulogized  by  every  other  member. 
Her  friend,  the  celebrated  Dr.  Erasmus  Darwin,  declared 
that  she  was  "  the  inventress  of  epic  elegy  " ;  the  eccentric 
philosopher  Day  called  her  a  "  prodigy  of  genius  "  ;  while 
the  wits  of  London  gently  ridiculed  the  pretensions  of  the 
literary  Lichfieldians.  Horace  Walpole  wrote :  "  Misses 
Seward  and  Williams,  and  a  half  a  dozen  more  of  these  har 
monious  virgins,  have  no  imagination,  no  novelty.  Their 
thoughts  and  phrases  are  like  their  gowns — old  remnants 
cut  and  turned."  The  Rev.  Alexander  Dyce  wrote :  "  She 
was  endowed  with  considerable  genius,  and  with  an  ample 
portion  of  that  fine  enthusiasm  which  sometimes  may  be 
taken  for  it ;  but  her  taste  was  far  from  good,  and  her  numer 
ous  productions  (a  few  excepted)  are  disfigured  by  florid 
ornament  and  elaborate  magnificence." 

After  Miss  Se ward's  death,  in  1809,  there  was  published 
a  small  volume  with  the  title  of  "The  Beauties  of  Anna 
Seward."  She  died  a  maiden.  The  portrait  preceding  this 
brief  memoir  is  a  carefully  drawn  copy  with  pen  and  ink 
of  an  engraving  by  A.  Garden,  from  the  original  picture 
painted  in  1763,  when  she  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  by  Tilly 
Kettle,  an  English  portrait-painter  of  note,  who  was  then 
only  about  twenty-three  years  of  age. 


MONODY 


ON 


MAJOR     ANDRE. 


BY  Miss  SEWARD, 
(AUTHOR  OF  THE  ELEGY  ON  CAPTAIN  COOK.) 


TO   WHICH    ARE  ADDED 

LETTERS    ADDRESSED    TO    HER 

BY    MAJOR    ANDRE, 

IN  THE  YEAR   1769. 


LICHFIELD  : 

PRINTED    AND   SOLD    BY   J.   JACKSON,   FOR   THE   AUTHOR  • 

D    ALSO    BY   ROBINSON,   PATER-NOSTER    ROW  ;    CADELL   AND    EVANS,   IN   THE 
STRAND,    LONDON  ;    PRINCE,    OXFORD  ;    MERRILL,    CAMBRIDGE  ; 
AND    PRATT    AND    CLINCH,    BATH. 
M.DCC.LXXXI. 

(Pnce,    Two-  Shillings -and-  Six- Pence.  ] 
10 


TO 

HIS   EXCELLENCY, 

SIR    HENRY    CLINTON, 

KNIGHT    OF    THE    BATH. 

SIR  :  With  the  zeal  of  a  religious  Enthusiast  to  his  mur 
dered  Saint,  the  Author  of  this  mournful  Eulogium  consecrates 
it  to  the  Memory  of  Major  Andre,  who  fell  a  Martyr  in  the 
Cause  of  his  King  and  Country,  with  the  firm  Intrepidity  of 
a  Roman,  and  the  amiable  Resignation  of  a  Christian  Hero. 

Distant  Awe  and  Reverence  prevent  her  offering  these  Effu 
sions  of  Gratitude  to  the  Beneficent  and  Royal  Patron  of  the 
Andrd  Family.  May  Mr.  Andre's  illustrious  General,  the 
Guardian  of  his  injured  Honour,  his  conspicuous  and  personal 
Friend,  deign  to  accept  them  from  One  who  was  once  happy  in 
the  Friendship  of  the  GLORIOUS  SUFFERER. 
Your  Excellency's 

Most  obedient  humble  Servant, 

ANNA  SEWARD. 


MONODY 

ON 

MAJ  OR    ANDRE 


LOUD  howls  the  storm  !  the  vex'd  Atlantic  roars ! 

Thy  Genius,  Britain,  wanders  on  its  shores  ! 

Hears  cries  of  horror,  wafted  from  afar, 

And  groans  of  Anguish,  mid  the  shrieks  of  War ! 

Hears  the  deep  curses  of  the  Great  and  Brave, 

Sigh  in  the  wind,  and  murmur  on  the  wave  ! 

O'er  his  damp  brow  the  sable  crape  he  binds, 

And  throws  his  victor-garland  *  to  the  winds  ; 

Bids  haggard  Winter,  in  her  drear  sojourn, 

Tear  the  dim  foliage  from  her  drizzling  urn  ; 

With  sickly  yew  unfragrant  cypress  twine, 

And  hang  the  dusky  wreath  round  Honour's  shrine. 

Bids  steel-clad  valour  chace  his  dove-like  Bride, 

Enfeebling  Mercy,  from  his  awful  side  ; 

Where  long  she  sat,  and  check'd  the  ardent  rein, 

As  whirl'd  his  chariot  o'er  th'  embattled  plain  ; 

Gilded  with  sunny  smile  her  April  tear, 

Rais'd  her  white  arm  and  stay'd  th'  uplifted  spear ; 

Then,  in  her  place,  bid  Vengeance  mount  the  car, 

And  glut  with  gore  th'  insatiate  Dogs  of  War  !— 

*  Victor-garland—alluding  to  the  conquest  by  Lord  Cornwallis. 


136  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

With  one  pale  hand  the  bloody  scroll  *  he  rears, 
And  bids  his  nations  blot  it  with  their  tears  ; 
And  one,  extended  o'er  th'  Atlantic  wave, 
Points  to  his  ANDRE'S  ignominious  grave  ! 

And  shall  the  Muse,  that  marks  the  solemn  scene, 

"  As  busy  Fancy  lifts  the  veil  between," 

Refuse  to  mingle  in  the  awful  train, 

Nor  breathe  with  glowing  zeal  the  votive  strain  ? 

From  public  fame  shall  admiration  fire 

The  boldest  numbers  of  her  raptur'd  lyre 

To  hymn  a  Stranger  ? — and  with  ardent  lay 

Lead  the  wild  mourner  round  her  COOK'S  morai, 

While  ANDRE  fades  upon  his  dreary  bier, 

And  JULIA'S f  only  tribute  is  her  tear? 

Dear,  lovely  Youth  !   whose  gentle  virtues  stole 

Thro'  Friendship's  soft'ning  medium  on  her  soul ! 

Ah  no  ! — with  every  strong  resistless  plea, 

Rise  the  recorded  days  she  pass'd  with  thee, 

While  each  dim  shadow  of  o'erwhelming  years, 

With  Eagle-glance  reverted,  Mem'ry  clears. 

Belov'd  companion  of  the  fairest  hours 
That  rose  for  her  in  joy's  resplendent  bow'rs, 
How  gaily  shone  on  thy  bright  Morn  of  Youth 
The  Star  of  Pleasure,  and  the  Sun  of  Truth  ! 
Full  from  their  Source  descended  on  thy  mind 
Each  gen'rous  virtue,  and  each  taste  refin'd. 


*  Bloody  scroll.  The  court-martial  decree,  signed  at  Tappan,  for  Major  An 
dre's  execution. 

f  Julia — the  name  by  which  Mr.  Andre  addressed  the  author  in  his  correspond 
ence  with  her. 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE.  137 

Young-  Genius  led  thee  to  his  varied  fane, 
Bade  thee  ask  *all  his  gifts,  nor  ask  in  vain  ; 
Hence  novel  thoughts,  in  ev'ry  lustre  drest 
Of  pointed  wit,  that  diamond  of  the  breast ; 
Hence  glow'd  thy  fancy  with  poetic  ray, 
Hence  music  warbled  in  thy  sprightly  lay  ; 
And  hence  thy  pencil,  with  his  colours  warm, 
Caught  ev'ry  grace,  and  copied  ev'ry  charm, 
Whose  transient  glories  beam  on  Beauty's  cheek, 
And  bid  the  glowing  Ivory  breathe  and  speak. 
Blest  pencil !  by  kind  Fate  ordain'd  to  save 
HONORA'S  semblance  from  f  her  early  grave, 
Oh  !  while  on  \  JULIA'S  arm  it  sweetly  smiles, 
And  each  lorn  thought,  each  long  regret  beguiles, 
Fondly  she  weeps  the  hand,  which  form'd  the  spell, 
Now  shroudless  mould'ring  in  its  earthy  cell ! 

But  sure  the  Youth,  whose  ill-starr'd  passion  strove 
With  all  the  pangs  of  inauspicious  Love, 
Full  oft'  deplor'd  the  Fatal  Art,  that  stole 
The  jocund  freedom  of  its  Master's  soul ! 


*  All  his  gifts. — Mr.  Andre  has  conspicuous  talents  for  Poetry,  Music,  and 
Painting.  The  news-papers  mentioned  a  satiric  poem  of  his  upon  Americans, 
which  was  supposed  to  have  stimulated  this  barbarity  towards  him  ["  The  Cow- 
Chase  "]. — Of  his  wit  and  vivacity,  the  letters  subjoined  to  this  work  afford  ample 
proof. — They  were  addressed  to  the  author  by  Mr.  Andre  when  he  was  a  youth  of 
eighteen. 

f  Early  grave, — Miss  Honora  S.  [Honora  Sneyd],  to  whom  Mr.  Andre's  attach 
ment  was  of  such  singular  constancy,  died  in  a  consumption  a  few  months  before 
he  suffer'd  death  at  Tappan.  She  had  married  another  Gentleman  [Richard  Lovell 
Edgeworth]  four  years  after  her  engagement  with  Mr.  Andre  had  been  dissolved 
by  parental  authority. 

\  Julia's  arm. — Mr.  Andre  drew  two  miniature  pictures  of  Miss  Honora  S. 
on  his  first  acquaintance  with  her  at  Buxton,  in  the  year  1769,  one  for  himself,  the 
other  for  the  author  of  this  poem. 


138  THE    TWO  SPIES. 

While  with  nice  hand  he  mark'd  the  living  grace, 
And  matchless  sweetness  of  HONORA'S  face, 
Th'  enamour'd  Youth  the  faithful  traces  blest, 
That  barb'd  the  dart  of  Beauty  in  his  breast ; 
Around  his  neck  th'  enchanting  Portrait  hung, 
While  a  warm  vow  burst  ardent  from  his  tongue, 
That  from  his  bosom  no  succeeding  day, 
No  chance  should  bear  that  Talisman  away. 
'Twas  thus  *Apelles  bask'd  in  Beauty's  blaze, 
And  felt  the  mischief  oi  the  steadfast  gaze ;   . 
Trac'd  with  disorder'd  hand  Campaspe's  charms, 
And  as  their  beams  the  kindling  Canvas  warms, 
Triumphant  Love,  with  still  superior  art, 
Engraves  their  wonders  on  the  Painter's  heart. 

Dear  lost  Companion  !  ever-constant  Youth  ! 
That  Fate  had  smil'd  propitious  on  thy  Truth  ! 
Nor  bound  th'  ensanguin'd  laurel  on  that  brow 
Where  Love  ordain'd  his  brightest  wreath  to  glow ! 
Then  Peace  had  led  thee  to  her  softest  bow'rs, 
And  Hymen  strew'd  thy  path  with  all  his  flow'rs ; 
Drawn  to  thy  roof,  by  Friendship's  silver  cord, 
Each  social  Joy  had  brighten'd  at  thy  board  ; 
Science,  and  soft  Affection's  blended  rays 
Had  shone  unclouded  on  thy  lengthen'd  days ; 
From  hour  to  hour  thy  taste,  with  conscious  pride, 
Had  mark'd  new  talents  in  thy  lovely  Bride  ; 
Till  thou  hadst  own'd  the  magic  of  her  face 
Thy  fair  HONORA'S  least  engaging  grace. 


*  '  Twas  thus  Applies. — Prior  is  very  elegant  upon  this  circumstance  in  an  Ode 
to  his  Friend,  Mr.  Howard  the  Painter. 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE.  139 

Dear  lost  HONORA  !  o'er  thy  early  bier 
Sorrowing  the  Muse  still  sheds  her  sacred  tear  ! 
The  blushing  Rose-bud  in  its  vernal  bed, 
By  Zephyrs  fann'd,  by  glist'ring  Dew-drops  fed, 
In  June's  gay  morn  that  scents  the  ambient  air, 
Was  not  more  sweet,  more  innocent  or  fair. 
Oh  !  when  such  Pairs  their  kindred  Spirit  find, 
When  Sense  and  Virtue  deck  each  spotless  Mind, 
Hard  is  the  doom  that  shall  the  union  break, 
And  Fate's  dark  billow  rises  o'er  the  wreck. 

Now  Prudence,  in  her  cold  and  thrifty  care, 

Frown'd  on  the  Maid,  and  bade  the  Youth  despair, 

For  Pow'r  Parental  sternly  saw,  and  strove 

To  tear  the  lily-bands  of  plighted  love  ; 

Nor  strove  in  vain  ; — but  while  the  Fair-One's  sighs 

Disperse,  like  April  storms  in  sunny  skies, 

The  firmer  Lover,  with  unswerving  truth, 

To  his  first  passion  consecrates  his  Youth  ; 

Tho'  four  long  years  a  night  of  absence  prove, 

Yet  Hope's  soft  Star  shone  trembling  on  his  Love  ; 

Till  *hov'ring  Rumour  chas'd  the  pleasing  dream 

And  veil'd  with  Raven-wing  the  silver  beam. 

"  HONORA  lost !  my  happy  Rival's  Bride  ! 

"  Swell  ye  full  Sails  !  and  roll  thou  mighty  Tide  ! 

"  O'er  the  dark  Waves  forsaken  ANDRE  bear 

"  Amid  the  vollying  Thunders  of  the  War  ! 

"  To  win  bright  Glory  from  my  Country's  foes, 

"  E'en  in  this  ice  of  Love,  my  bosom  glows. 

*  Hav'ring  Rumour. — The  tidings  of  Honora's  Marriage.  Upon  that  event 
Mr.  Andre  quitted  his  Profession  as  a  Merchant  and  join'd  our  Army  in 
America. 


140 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 


"  Voluptuous  LONDON  !  in  whose  gorgeous  bow'rs 

"  The  frolic  Pleasures  lead  the  dancing  Hours, 

"  From  Orient-vales  Sabean-odours  bring, 

"  Nor  ask  her  roses  of  the  tardy  Spring  ; 

"  Where  Paintings  burn  the  Grecian  Meed  to  claim 

"  From  the  high  Temple  of  immortal  Fame, 

"  Bears  to  the  radiant  Goal,  with  ardent  pace, 

"  Her  Kauffman's  Beauty,  and  her  Reynolds'  Grace  ; 

"  Where  Music  floats  the  glitt'ring  roofs  among, 

"  And  with  meand'ring  cadence  swells  the  Song, 

"  While  sun-clad  Poesy  the  Bard  inspires, 

"  And  foils  the  Grecian  Harps,  the  Latian  Lyres. 

"  Ye  soft'ning  Luxuries  !  ye  polish'd  Arts  ! 

"  Bend  your  enfeebling  rays  on  tranquil  Hearts  ! 

"  I  quit  the  Song,  the  Pencil,  and  the  Lyre, 

"  White  robes  of  Peace,  and  Pleasure's  soft  Attire, 

"  To  seize  the  Sword,  to  mount  the  rapid  Car, 

"  In  all  the  proud  habiliments  of  War.— 

"  HONORA  lost !  I  woo  a  sterner  Bride, 

"  The  arm'd  Bellona  calls  me  to  her  side  ; 

"  Harsh  is  the  music  of  our  marriage  strain  ! 

"  It  breathes  in  thunder  from  the  Western  plain  ! 

"  Wide  o'er  the  wat'ry  world  its  echoes  roll, 

"  And  rouse  each  latent  ardour  of  my  soul. 

"  And  tho'  unlike  the  soft  melodious  lay, 

"  That  gaily  wak'd  HONORA'S  nuptial  day, 

"  Its  deeper  tones  shall  whisper,  e'er  they  cease, 

"  More  genuine  transport,  and  more  lasting  peace  ! 

"  Resolv'd  I  go  !— nor  from  that  fatal  bourne 

"  To  these  gay  scenes  shall  ANDRE'S  step  return  ! 


MONODY  ON  MA /OR  ANDRE. 

"  Set  is  the  Star  of  Love,  that  ought  to  guide 

"  His  refluent  Bark  across  the  mighty  Tide  !— 

"  But  while  my  Country's  Foes,  with  impious  hand, 

"  Hurl  o'er  the  blasted  plains  the  livid  brand 

"  Of  dire  Sedition  !— Oh  !  let  Heav'n  ordain, 

"  While  ANDRE  lives,  he  may  not  live  in  vain  ! 

"  Yet  without  one  kind  farewell,  could  I  roam 

"  Far  from  my  weeping  Friends,  my  peaceful  home, 

"  The  best  affections  of  my  heart  must  cease, 

"  And  gratitude  be  lost,  with  hope,  and  peace  ! 

"  My  lovely  Sisters  !  who  were  wont  to  twine 

"  Your  Souls'  soft  feeling  with  each  wish  of  mine, 

"  Shall,  when  this  breast  beats  high  at  Glory's  call, 

"  From  your  mild  eyes  the  show'rs  of  Sorrow  fall  ?— 

"The  light  of  Excellence,  that  round  you  glows, 

"  Decks  with  reflected  beam  your  Brother's  brows. 

"  Oh  !  may  his  Fame,  in  some  distinguish'd  day, 

"  Pour  on  that  Excellence  the  brightest  ray  ! 

"  Dim  clouds  of  woe  !  ye  veil  each  sprightly  grace 

"  That  us'd  to  sparkle  in  MARIA'S  face. 

"  My  *  tuneful  ANNA  to  her  lute  complains, 

"  But  Grief's  fond  throbs  arrest  the  parting  strains.— 

"  Fair  as  the  silver  blossom  on  the  thorn, 

"  Soft  as  the  spirit  of  the  vernal  morn, 

"  LOUISA,  chace  those  trembling  fears,  that  prove 

"  Th'  ungovern'd  terrors  of  a  Sister's  love. 

<4  They  bend  thy  sweet  head,  like  yon  lucid  flow'r, 

"  That  shrinks  and  fades  beneath  the  summer's  show'r 

"  Oh  !  smile,  my  Sisters,  on  this  destin'd  day, 


*  TuntfulArtna.—W\ss  Anna  Andre  has  a  poetical  talent. 


142  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

"  And  with  the  radiant  omen  gild  my  way  ! 

"  And  thou,  my  Brother,  gentle  as  the  gale, 

"  Whose  breath  perfumes  anew  the  blossom'd  vale, 

"  Yet  quick  of  Spirit,  as  th'  electric  beam, 

"  When  from  the  clouds  its  darting  lightnings  stream, 

"  Soothe  with  incessant  care  our  Mother's  woes, 

"  And  hush  her  anxious  sighs  to  soft  repose. — 

"  And  be  ye  sure,  when  distant  far  I  stray 

"  To  share  the  dangers  of  the  arduous  day, 

"  Your  tender  faithful  amity  shall  rest 

"  The  *  last  dear  record  of  my  grateful  breast. 

"  Oh  !  graceful  Priestess  at  the  fane  of  Truth, 

"  Friend  of  my  Soul !  and  Guardian  of  my  Youth  ! 

''  Skill'd  to  convert  the  duty  to  the  choice, 

"  My  gentle  Mother  ! — in  whose  melting  voice 

"  The  virtuous  precept,  that  perpetual  flow'd, 

"  With  music  warbled,  and  with  beauty  glow'd, 

"  Thy  Tears  ! — ah  Heav'n  ! — not  drops  of  molten  lead, 

"  Pour'd  on  thy  hapless  Son's  devoted  head, 

"  With  keener  smart  had  each  sensation  torn  !— 

"  They  wake  the  nerve  where  agonies  are  born  ! 

"  But  oh  !  restrain  me  not ! — thy  tender  strife, 

"  What  wou'd  it  save  ?— alas  !— thy  ANDRE'S  life  ! 

"  Oh  !  what  a  weary  pilgrimage  'twill  prove 

"  Strew'd  with  the  thorns  of  disappointed  Love  ! 

"  Ne'er  can  he  break  the  charm,  whose  fond  controul, 

"  By  habit  rooted,  lords  it  o'er  his  soul, 

*  Last  dear  record. — "  I  have  a  Mother,  and  three  Sisters,  to  whom  the  value 
"  of  my  commission  wou'd  be  an  object,  as  the  loss  of  Grenada  has  much  affected 
"  their  income.  It  is  needless  to  be  more  explicit  on  this  subject,  I  know  your  Ex- 
"  cellency's  goodness." — See  Major  Andrews  last  letter  to  General  Clinton,  publish'd 
in  the  Gazette. 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDR&.  143 

"  If  here  he  languish  in  inglorious  ease, 
"  Where  Science  palls,  and  Pleasures  cease  to  please. 
"  Tis  Glory  only,  with  her  potent  ray, 
'  Can  chace  the  clouds  that  darken  all  his  way. 
"  Then  dry  those  pearly  drops  that  wildly  flow, 
"  Nor  snatch  the  laurel  from  my  youthful  brow  ! — 
"  The  Rebel  Standard  blazes  to  the  noon  ! 
"  And  Glory's  path  is  bright  before  thy  Son  ! 
"  Then  join  thy  voice  !  and  thou  with  Heav'n  ordain 
"  While  ANDRE  lives,  he  may  not  live  in  vain  !  " 

He  says  ! — and  sighing  seeks  the  busy  strand, 
Where  anchor'd  Navies  wait  the  wish'd  command. 
To  the  full  gale  the  nearer  billows  roar, 
And  proudly  lash  the  circumscribing  shore  ; 
While  furious  on  the  craggy  coast  they  rave, 
All  calm  and  lovely  rolls  the  distant  wave  ; 
For  onward,  as  th'  unbounded  waters  spread, 
Deep  sink  the  rocks  in  their  capacious  bed, 
And  all  their  pointed  terror's  utmost  force 
But  gently  interrupts  the  billow's  course. 

So  on  his  present  hour  rude  Passion  preys  ! 
So  smooth  the  prospect  of  his  future  days  ! 
Unconscious  of  the  Storm,  that  grimly  sleeps, 
To  wreck  its  fury  on  th'  unshelter'd  Deeps  ! 
Now  yielding  Waves  divide  before  the  prow, 
The  white  sails  bend,  the  streaming  pennants  glow ; 
And  swiftly  waft  him  to  the  Western  plain, 
Where  fierce  Bellona  rages  o'er  the  slain. 

Firm  in  their  strength,  opposing  Legions  stand, 
Prepar'd  to  drench  with  blood  the  thirsty  Land. 


144  THE  TWO  SPIES- 

Now  Carnage  hurls  her  flaming  bolts  afar, 
And  Desolation  groans  amid  the  War. 
As  bleed  the  Valiant,  and  the  Mighty  yield, 
Death  stalks,  the  only  Victor,  o'er  the  field. 

Foremost  in  all  the  horrors  of  the  day, 

Impetuous  ANDRE  *  leads  the  glorious  way  ; 

Till,  rashly  bold,  by  numbers  forc'd  to  yield, 

They  drag  him  captive  from  the  long-fought  field. — 

Around  the  Hero  crowd  th'  exulting  Bands, 

And  seize  the  spoils  of  war  with  bloody  hands, 

Snatch  the  dark  plumage  from  his  awful  crest, 

And  tear  the  golden  crescent  from  his  breast ; 

The  sword,  the  tube,  that  wings  the  death  from  far, 

And  all  the  fatal  implements  of  War  ! 

Silent,  unmov'd  the  gallant  Youth  survey'd 

The  lavish  spoils  triumphant  Ruffians  made. 

The  idle  ornament,  the  useless  spear 

He  little  recks,  but  oh  !  there  is  a  fear 

Pants  with  quick  throb,  while  yearning  sorrows  dart 

Thro'  his  chill  frame,  and  tremble  at  his  heart : 

"  What  tho'  HONORA'S  voice  no  more  shall  charm  ! 

"  No  more  her  beamy  smile  my  bosom  warm  ! 

"  Yet  from  these  eyes  shall  force  for  ever  tear 

"  The  sacred  Image  of  that  Form  so  dear  ?— 

"  Shade  of  my  Love  !  f— tho'  mute  and  cold  thy  charms, 

"  Ne'er  hast  thou  blest  my  happy  Rival's  arms  ! 

*  Impetuous  Andre— It  is  in  this  passage  only  that  fiction  has  been  employ'd 
thro'  the  narrative  of  the  poem.  Mr.  Andre"  was  a  prisoner  in  America,  soon  after 
his  arrival  there,  but  the  Author  is  unacquainted  with  the  circumstances  of  the 
action  in  which  he  was  taken. 

f  Shade  of  my  Love.— The  miniature  of  Honora.     A  letter  from  Major  Andre 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE.  i^ 

"  To  my  sad  heart  each  Dawn  has  seen  thee  prest ! 
"  Each  Night  has  laid  thee  pillow'd  on  my  breast ! 
"  Force  shall  not  tear  thee  from  thy  faithful  shrine  ; 
"  Shade  of  my  Love  !  thou  shalt  be  ever  mine  ! 

"  'Tis  fix'd  ! — these  lips  shall  resolute  enclose 

"  The  precious  Soother  of  my  ceaseless  woes. 

"  And  shou'd  relentless  Violence  invade 

"  This  last  retreat,  by  frantic  Fondness  made, 

"  One  way  remains  ! — Fate  whispers  to  my  Soul 

"  Intrepid  *  Portia  and  her  burning  coal ! 

"  So  shall  the  throbbing  Inmate  of  my  breast 

"  From  Love's  sole  gift  meet  everlasting  rest ! " 

While  these  sad  thoughts  in  swift  succession  fire 
The  smother'd  embers  of  each  fond  desire, 
Quick  to  his  mouth  his  eager  hands  removes 
The  beauteous  semblance  of  the  Form  he  loves. 
That  darling  treasure  safe,  resign'd  he  wears 
The  sordid  robe,  the  scanty  viand  shares  ; 
With  cheerful  fortitude  content  to  wait 
The  barter'd  ransom  of  a  kinder  Fate. 

Now  many  a  Moon  in  her  pale  course  had  shed 
The  pensive  beam  on  ANDRE'S  captive  head. 

to  one  of  his  Friends,  written  a  few  years  ago,  contained  the  following  sentence  : 
"  I  have  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Americans  and  stript  of  everything  except  the 
"  picture  of  Honora,  which  I  concealed  in  my  mouth.  Preserving  that,  I  yet  think 
"  myself  fortunate." 

*  Intrepid  Portia. — "  Brutus],  Impatient  of  my  absence, 

"  And  grieved  that  young  Octavius  with  Mark  Antony 

"  Had  made  themselves  so  strong,  she  grew  distracted, 

"  And,  her  Attendants  absent,  swallow'd  fire. 

"  Cassius.']  And  dy'd  so  ? 

"Jirutos.]  Even  so  !" 
See  Shakespear's  Play  of  Julius  Caesar,  Act  IV.,  Scene  IV. 


146  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

At  length  the  Sun  rose  jocund,  to  adorn 

With  all  his  splendour  the  enfranchis'd  Morn. 

Again  the  Hero  joins  the  ardent  Train 

That  pours  its  thousands  on  the  tented  plain  ; 

And  shines  distinguish'd  in  the  long  Array, 

Bright  as  the  silver  Star  that  leads  the  Day  ! 

His  modest  temperance,  his  wakeful  heed, 

His  silent  diligence,  his  ardent  speed, 

Each  Warrior-duty  to  the  Veteran  taught, 

Shaming  the  vain  Experience  Time  had  brought. 

Dependence  scarcely  feels  his  gentle  sway, 

He  shares  each  want,  and  smiles  each  grief  away  ; 

And  to  the  virtues  of  a  noble  Heart, 

Unites  the  talents  of  inventive  Art. 

Thus  from  his  swift  and  faithful  pencil  flow 

The  Lines,  the  Camp,  the  Fortress  of  the  Foe  ; 

Serene  to  counteract  each  deep  design, 

Points  the  dark  Ambush,  and  the  springing  Mine  ; 

Till,  as  a  breathing  Incense,  ANDRE'S  name 

Pervades  the  Host,  and  swells  the  loud  acclaim. 

The  CHIEF  no  virtue  views  with  cold  regard, 

Skill'd  to  discern,  and  generous  to  reward  ; 

Each  tow'ring  hope  his  honour'd  smiles  impart, 

As  near  his  Person,  and  more  near  his  Heart 

The  graceful  Youth  he  draws, — and  round  his  brow 

Bids  Rank  and  Pow'r  their  mingled  brilliance  throw. 

Oh  !  hast  thou  seen  a  blooming  Morn  of  May 
In  crystal  beauty  shed  the  modest  ray, 
And  with  its  balmy  dews'  refreshing  show'r 
Swell  the  young  grain,  and  ope  the  purple  flow'r, 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE.  !4 

In  bright'ning  lustre  reach  its  radiant  Noon, 
Rob'd  in  the  gayest  mantle  of  the  Sun  ? 
Then  'mid  the  splendours  of  its  azure  skies, 
Oh  !  hast  thou  seen  the  cruel  Storm  arise, 
In  sable  horror  shroud  each  dazzling  charm, 
And  dash  their  glories  back  with  icy  arm  ? 

Thus  lowr'd  the  deathful  cloud  amid  the  blaze 

Of  ANDRE'S  rising  hopes,— and  quench'd  their  rays  ! 

Ah,  fatal  Embassy  ! — thy  hazards  dire 

His  kindling  Soul  with  ev'ry  ardour  fire  ; 

Great  CLINTON  gives  it  to  the  courage  prov'd, 

And  the  known  wisdom  of  the  Friend  he  lov'd. 

As  fair  Euryalus,  to  meet  his  Fate, 
With  Nysus  rushes  from  the  Dardan  gate, 
Relentless  Fate  !  whose  fury  scorns  to  spare 
The  snowy  breast,  red  lip,  and  shining  hair, 
So  polish'd  ANDRE  launches  on  the  waves, 
Where  *  Hudson's  tide  its  dreary  confine  laves. 
With  firm  intrepid  foot  the  Youth  explores 
Each  dangerous  pathway  of  the  hostile  shores  ; 
But  on  no  Veteran-Chief  his  step  attends, 
As  silent  round  the  gloomy  Wood  he  wends  ; 
Alone  he  meets  the  brave  repentant  Foe, 
Sustains  his  late  resolve,  receives  his  vow, 
With  ardent  skill  directs  the  doubtful  course, 
Seals  the  firm  bond,  and  ratifies  its  force. 
Tis  thus,  AMERICA,  thy  Generals  fly, 
And  wave  new  banners  in  their  native  sky  ! 

*  Hudson's  tide. — Major  Andre  came  up  the  Hudson   River  to  meet  General 
Arnold.     On  his  return  by  Land  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Enemy. 
11 


I48  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

Sick  of  the  mischiefs  artful  GALLIA  pours, 
In  friendly  semblance  on  thy  ravag'd  shores. 
Unnatural  compact ! — shall  a  Race  of  Slaves 
Sustain  the  ponderous  standard  Freedom  waves  ? 
No  !  while  their  feign'd  Protection  spreads  the  toils. 
The  Vultures  hover  o'er  the  destin'd  spoils  ! 
How  fade  Provincial-glories,  while  ye  run 
To  court  far  deeper  bondage  than  ye  shun  ! 
Is  this  the  generous  active  rising  Flame, 
That  boasted  Liberty's  immortal  name, 
Blaz'd  for  its  rights  infring'd,  its  trophies  torn, 
And  taught  the  Wife  the  dire  mistake  to  mourn, 
When  haughty  BRITAIN,  in  a  luckless  hour, 
With  rage  inebriate,  and  the  lust  of  pow'r, 
To  fruitless  conquest,  and  to  countless  graves, 
Led  her  gay  Legions  o'er  the  Western  waves  ? 
The  Friend  of  Discord,  cow'ring  at  the  prow, 
Sat  darkly  smiling  at  th'  impending  woe  ! 

Long  did  my  Soul  the  wretched  strife  survey, 
And  wept  the  horrors  of  the  deathful  day  ; 
Thro'  rolling  Years  saw  undecisive  War 
Drag  bleeding  Wisdom  at  his  iron  Car  ; 
Exhaust  my  Country's  treasure,  pour  her  gore 
In  fruitless  conflict  on  the  distant  shore  ; 
Saw  the  firm  CONGRESS  all  her  might  oppose, 
And  while  I  mourn'd  her  fate,  rever'd  her  Foes. 

But  when,  repentant  of  her  prouder  aim, 
She  gently  waives  the  long-disputed  claim  ; 
Extends  the  Charter  with  your  Rights  restor'd, 
And  hides  in  olive-wreaths  the  blood-stain'd  sword, 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDR&.  149 

Then  to  reject  her  peaceful  wreaths,  and  throw 
Your  Country's  Freedom  to  our  mutual  Foe  ! — 
Infatuate  Land  ! — from  that  detested  day 
Distracted  Councils,  and  the  thirst  of  Sway, 
Rapacious  Avarice,  Superstition  vile, 
And  all  the  Frenchman  dictates  in  his  guile 
Disgrace  your  CONGRESS  ! — Justice  drops  her  scale ! 
And  radiant  Liberty  averts  her  sail ! 
They  fly  indignant  the  polluted  plain, 
Where  Truth  is  scorn'd,  and  Mercy  pleads  in  vain. 
That  she  does  plead  in  vain,  thy  witness  bear, 
Accursed  Hour  ! — thou  darkest  of  the  Year  ! 
That  with  Misfortune's  deadliest  venom  fraught, 
To  Tappan's  Wall  the  gallant  ANDRE  brought. 

Oh  WASHINGTON  !  I  thought  thee  great  and  good, 
Nor  knew  thy  Nero-thirst  of  guiltless  blood  ! 
Severe  to  use  the  pow'r  that  Fortune  gave, 
Thou  cool  determin'd  Murderer  of  the  Brave  ! 
Lost  to  each  fairer  Virtue,  that  inspires 
The  genuine  fervor  of  the  patriot  fires  ! 
And  You,  the  base  Abettors  of  the  doom, 
That  sunk  his  blooming  honors  in  the  tomb, 
Th'  opprobrious  tomb  your  harden'd  hearts  decreed, 
While  all  he  ask'd  was  as  the  Brave  to  Bleed  ! 
Nor  other  boon  the  glorious  Youth  implor'd 
Save  the  cold  Mercy  of  the  Warrior-Sword  ! 
O  dark,  and  pitiless  !  your  impious  hate 
O'er-whelm'd  the  Hero  in  the  Ruffian's  fate  ! 
Stopt  with  the  *  Felon-cord  the  rosy  breath  ! 
And  venom'd  with  disgrace  the  darts  of  Death  ! 

*  Felon-cord. — "  As  I  suffer  in  the  defence  of  my  Country,  I  must  consider  this 
hour  as  the  most  glorious  of  my  life. — Remember  that  I  die  as  becomes  a  British 


150  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

Remorseless  WASHINGTON  !  the  day  shall  come 

Of  deep  repentance  for  this  barb'rous  doom  ! 

When  injur'd  ANDRE'S  memory  shall  inspire 

A  kindling  Army  with  resistless  fire  ; 

Each  falchion  sharpen  that  the  Britons  wield, 

And  lead  their  fiercest  Lion  to  the  field  ! 

Then,  when  each  hope  of  thine  shall  set  in  night, 

When  dubious  dread,  and  unavailing  flight 

Impel  your  Host,  thy  guilt-upbraided  Soul 

Shall  wish  untouch'd  the  sacred  Life  you  stole  ! 

And  when  thy  Heart  appall'd  and  vanquish'd  Pride 

Shall  vainly  ask  the  mercy  they  deny'd, 

With  horror  shalt  thou  meet  the  fate  they  gave, 

Nor  Pity  gild  the  darkness  of  thy  grave  ! 

For  Infamy,  with  livid  hand  shall  shed 

Eternal  mildew  on  the  ruthless  head  ! 

Less  cruel  far  than  thou,  on  Ilium's  plain 
Achilles,  raging  for  Patroclus  slain  ! 
When  hapless  Priam  bends  the  aged  knee, 
To  deprecate  the  Victor's  dire  decree, 
The  nobler  Greek,  in  melting  pity  spares 
The  lifeless  Hector  to  his  Father's  prayers, 
Fierce  as  he  was  ; — 'tis  Co^cvards  only  know 
Persisting  vengeance  o'er  a  fallen  Foe. 

But  no  intreaty  wakes  the  soft  remorse, 
Oh,  murder'd  ANDRE  !  for  thy  sacred  Corse  ; 
Vain  were  an  army's,  vain  its  Leader's  sighs ! — 
Damp  in  the  Earth  on  Hudson's  shore  it  lies  ! 


"  Officer,  while  the  manner  of  my  death  must  reflect  disgrace  on  your  Commander." 
See  Major  Andre's  last  words,  inserted  in  the  General  Evening  Post,  for  Tuesday 
November  the  14,  1780. 


MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE.  151 

Unshrouded  welters  in  the  wintry  storm, 
And  gluts  the  riot  of  the  *  Tappan  Worm  ! 
But  oh  !  its  dust,  like  Abel's  blood,  shall  rise, 
And  call  for  justice  from  the  angry  skies  ! 

What  tho'  the  Tyrants,  with  malignant  pride, 
To  thy  pale  Corse  each  decent  rite  deny'd  ! 
Thy  graceful  limbs  in  no  kind  covert  laid, 
Nor  with  the  Christian  Requiem  sooth'd  thy  shade  ! 
Yet  on  thy  grass-green  Bier  soft  April-show'rs 
Shall  earliest  wake  the  sweet  spontaneous  Flow'rs, 
Bid  the  blue  Hare-bell  and  the  Snow-drop  there 
Hang  their  cold  cup,  and  drop  the  pearly  tear  ! 
And  oft,  at  pensive  Eve's  ambiguous  gloom, 
Imperial  Honour,  bending  o'er  thy  tomb, 
With  solemn  strains  shall  lull  thy  deep  repose, 
And  with  his  deathless  Laurels  shade  thy  brows ! 

Lamented  Youth  !  while  with  inverted  spear 
The  British  Legions  pour  th'  indignant  tear  ! 
Round  the  dropt  arm  the  f  funeral  scarf  entwine, 
And  in  their  heart's  deep  core  thy  worth  enshrine, 
While  my  weak  Muse,  in  fond  attempt  and  vain, 
But  feebly  pours  a  perishable  strain, 
Oh  !  ye  distinguish'd  Few  !  whose  glowing  lays 
Bright  Phoebus  kindles  with  his  purest  rays, 
Snatch  from  its  radiant  source  the  living  fire, 
And  light  with  \  Vestal  flame  your  ANDRE'S  HALLOW'D 
PYRE. 


*  Tappan. — The  place  where  Major  Andre  was  executed. 

•j-  Funeral  scarf. — Our  whole  Army  in  America  went  into  mourning  for  Major 
Andre,  a  distinguish'd  tribute  to  his  merit. 

\  Vestal  flame. — The  Vestal  fire  was  kept  perpetually  burning,  and  originally 
kindled  from  the  rays  of  the  Sun. 


LETTERS 

ADDRESSED    TO    THE    AUTHOR    OF    THE    FOREGOING    POEM,    BY    MAJOR 
ANDRE,    WHEN    HE    WAS    A    YOUTH    OF    EIGHTEEN. 


LETTER    I. 

CLAPTON,   October  j,  1769. 

FROM  their  agreeable  excursion  to  Shrewsbury,  my  dear 
est  friends  are  by  this  time  returned  to  their  thrice-beloved 
Lichfield.  Once  again  have  they  beheld  those  fortunate 
spires,  the  constant  witnesses  of  all  their  pains  and  pleasures. 
I  can  well  conceive  the  emotions  of  joy  which  their  first  ap 
pearance,  from  the  neighboring  hills,  excites  after  absence ; 
they  seem  to  welcome  you  home,  and  invite  you  to  reiterate 
those  hours  of  happiness,  of  which  they  are  a  species  of 
monument.  I  shall  have  an  eternal  love  and  reverence  for 
them.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  joy  that  danced  in  Honora's 
eyes,  when  she  first  showed  them  to  me  from  Need  wood 
Forest  on  our  return  with  you  from  Buxton  to  Lichfield.  I 
remember  she  called  them  the  Ladies  of  the  Valley— their 
lightness  and  elegance  deserve  the  title.  Oh,  how  I  loved 
them  from  that  instant !  My  enthusiasm  concerning  them 
is  carried  farther  even  than  yours  and  Honora's,  for  every 
object  that  has  a  pyramidal  form  recalls  them  to  my  recol 
lection,  with  a  sensation  that  brings  the  tear  of  pleasure  into 
my  eyes. 


LETTERS.  153 

How  happy  must  you  have  been  at  Shrewsbury  !  only 
that  you  tell  me,  alas  !  that  dear  Honora  was  not  so  well  as 
you  wished  during  your  stay  there.  I  always  hope  the  best. 
My  impatient  spirit  rejects  every  obtruding  idea  which  I 
have  not  fortitude  to  support.  Dr.  Darwin's  skill  and 
your  tender  care  will  remove  that  sad  pain  in  her  side, 
which  makes  writing  troublesome  and  injurious  to  her ; 
which  robs  her  poor  cher  Jean  *  of  those  precious  pages 
with  which,  he  flatters  himself,  she  would  otherwise  have 
indulged  him.  So  your  happiness  at  Shrewsbury  scorned 
to  be  indebted  to  public  amusements.  Five  virgins,  united 
in  the  soft  bonds  of  friendship  !  how  I  should  have  liked 
to  have  made  the  sixth  !  But  you  surprise  me  by  such  an 
absolute  exclusion  of  the  beaux.  I  certainly  thought  that 
when  five  wise  virgins  were  watching  at  midnight,  it  must 
have  been  in  expectation  of  the  bridegroom's  coming.  We 
are  at  this  instant  five  virgins,  writing  round  the  same  table 
— my  three  sisters,  Mr.  Ewer,  and  myself.  I  beg  no  reflec 
tions  injurious  to  the  honor  of  poor  cher  Jean.  My  mother  is 
gone  to  pay  a  visit,  and  has  left  us  in  possession  of  the  old 
coach  ;  but  as  for  nags,  we  can  boast  only  of  two  long-tails, 
and  my  sisters  say  they  are  sorry  cattle,  being  no  other 
than  my  friend  Ewer  and  myself,  who,  to  say  the  truth,  have 
enormous  pig-tails. 

My  dear  Boissier  is  come  to  town  ;  he  has  brought  a  lit 
tle  of  the  soldier  with  him,  but  he  is  the  same  honest,  warm, 
intelligent  friend  I  always  found  him.  He  sacrifices  the  town 
diversions,  since  I  will  not  partake  of  them. 

We  are  jealous  of  your  correspondents,  who  are  so  nu 
merous.  Yet,  write  to  the  Andres  often,  my  dear  Julia,  for 

*  A  name  of  kindness,  by  which  Mr.  Andre  was  often  called  by  his  mother  and 
sisters,  and  generally  adopted  by  the  persons  mentioned  in  these  letters. 


154  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

who  are  they  that  will  value  your  letters  quite  so  much  as 
we  value  them  ? 

The  least  scrap  of  a  letter  will  be  received  with  the  great 
est  joy.  Write,  therefore,  though  it  were  only  to  give  us 
the  comfort  of  having  a  piece  of  paper  which  has  recently 
passed  through  your  hands  ;  Honora  will  put  in  a  little 
postscript,  were  it  only  to  tell  me  that  she  is  my  very  sincere 
friend,  who  will  neither  give  me  love  nor  comfort — very 
short,  indeed,  Honora,  was  thy  last  postscript  !  But  I  am 
too  presumptuous  ;  I  will  not  scratch  out,  but  I  z/;*say. 
From  the  little  there  was  I  received  more  joy  than  I  de 
serve.  This  chcr  Jean  is  an  impertinent,  fellow,  but  he  will 
grow  discreet  in  time.  You  must  consider  him  as  a  poor 
novice  of  eighteen,  who,  for  all  the  sins  he  may  commit,  is 
sufficiently  punished  in  the  single  evil  of  being  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  from  Lichfield. 

My  mother  and  sisters  will  go  to  Putney  in  a  few  days, 
to  stay  some  time.  We  none  of  us  like  Clapton.  /  need  not 
care,  for  I  am  all  day  long  in  town,  but  it  is  avoiding  Scylla 
to  fall  into  Charybdis.  You  paint  to  me  the  pleasant  vale  of 
Stow  in  the  richest  autumnal  coloring.  In  return,  I  must  tell 
you  that  my  zephyrs  are  wafted  through  cracks  in  the  wain 
scot;  for  murmuring  streams  I  have  dirty  kennels;  for  bleat 
ing  flocks,  grunting  pigs  ;  and  squalling  cats  for  birds  that  in 
cessantly  warble.  I  have  said  something  of  this  sort  in  my 
letter  to  Miss  Spearman,  and  am  twinged  with  the  idea  of 
these  epistles  being  confronted,  and  that  I  shall  recall  to 
your  memory  the  fat  knight's  love-letters  .to  Mrs.  Ford  and 
Mrs.  Page. 

Julia,  perhaps  thou  fanciest  I  am  merry — alas  !  But  I  do 
not  wish  to  make  you  as  doleful  as  myself ;  and  besides, 
when  I  would  express  the  tender  feelings  of  my  soul,  I  have 


LETTERS.  !55 

no  language  which  does  them  justice  ;  if  I  had,  I  should  re 
gret  that  you  could  not  have  it  fresher,  and  that  whatever 
one  communicates  by  letter  must  go  such  a  roundabout  way 
before  it  reaches  one's  correspondent  —  from  the  writer's 
heart,  through  his  head,  arm,  hand,  pen,  ink,  paper,  over 
many  a  weary  hill  and  dale,  to  the  eye,  head,  and  heart  of 
the  reader.  I  have  often  regretted  our  not  possessing  a 
sort  of  faculty  which  should  enable  our  sensations,  remarks, 
etc.,  to  arise  from  their  source  in  a  sort  of  exaltations,  and 
fall  upon  our  paper  in  words  and  phrases  properly  adapted 
to  express  them,  without  passing  through  an  imagination 
whose  operations  so  often  fail  to  second  those  of  the  heart. 
Then  what  a  metamorphose  should  we  see  in  people's  style ! 
How  eloquent  those  who  are  truly  attached  !  how  stupid 
they  who  falsely  profess  affection  !  Perhaps  the  former  had 
never  been  able  to  express  half  their  regard  ;  while  the  lat 
ter,  by  their  flowers  of  rhetoric,  had  made  us  believe  a  thou 
sand  times  more  than  they  ever  felt — but  this  is  whimsical 
moralizing. 

My  sisters  Penserosas  were  dispersed  on  their  arrival 
in  town,  by  the  joy  of  seeing  Louisa  and  their  dear  little 
brother  Billy  again,  our  kind  and  excellent  Uncle  Giradot, 
and  Uncle  Lewis  Andre.  I  was  glad  to  see  them,  but  they 
complained,  not  without  reason,  of  the  gloom  upon  my 
countenance.  Billy  wept  for  joy  that  we  were  returned, 
while  poor  cher  Jean  was  ready  to  weep  for  sorrow.  Louisa 
is  grown  still  handsomer  since  we  left  her.  Our  sisters, 
Mary  and  Anne,  knowing  your  partiality  to  beauty,  are 
afraid  that,  when  they  introduce  her  to  you,  she  will  put 
their  noses  out  of  joint.  Billy  is  not  old  enough  for  me 
to  be  afraid  of  in  the  rival-way,  else  I  should  keep  him 
aloof,  for  his  heart  is  formed  of  those  affectionate  ma- 


156  THE   TWO   SPIES. 

terials  so  dear  to  the  ingenuous  taste  of  Julia  and  her 
Honora. 

I  sympathize  in  your  resentment  against  the  canonical 
dons  who  stumpify  the  heads  of  those  good  green*  people, 
beneath  whose  friendly  shade  so  many  of  your  happiest 
hours  have  glided  away — but  they  defy  them  ;  let  them 
stumpify  as  much  as  they  please,  time  will  repair  the  mis 
chief  ;  their  verdant  arms  will  again  extend  and  invite  you 
to  their  shelter. 

The  evenings  grow  long.  I  hope  your  conversation 
round  the  fire  will  sometimes  fall  on  the  Andres  ;  it  will 
be  a  great  comfort  that  they  are  remembered.  We  chink 
our  glasses  to  your  healths  at  every  meal.  "  Here's  to  our 
Lichfieldian  friends/'  says  Nanny.  "  Oh-h  !  "  says  Mary. 
"With  all  my  soul,  say  I."  "Allans!"  cries  my  mother— 
and  the  draught  seems  nectar.  The  libation  made,  we  begin 
our  uncloying  theme,  and  so  beguile  the  gloomy  evening. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Seward  will  accept  my  most  affectionate 
respects.  My  male  friend  at  Lichfield  will  join  in  your  con 
versation  on  the  Andres.  Among  the  numerous  good  quali 
ties  he  is  possessed  of,  he  certainly  has  gratitude,  and.  then 
he  can  not  forget  those  who  so  sincerely  love  and  esteem 
him.  I,  in  particular,  shall  always  recall  with  pleasure  the 
happy  hours  I  have  passed  in  his  company.  My  friendship 
for  him,  and  for  your  family,  has  diffused  itself,  like  the 
precious  ointment  from  Aaron's  beard,  on  everything  which 
surrounds  you  ;  therefore  I  beg-  you  would  give  my  amities 
to  the  whole  town.  Persuade  Honora  to  forgive  the  length 
and  ardor  of  the  enclosed,  and  believe  me  truly, 

Your  affectionate  and  faithful  friend, 

J.  ANDRE. 


*  The  trees  in  the  cathedral-walk  in  Lichfield. 


LETTERS.  157 

LETTER    II. 

LONDON,  October  ig,  1769. 

FROI\I  the  midst  of  books,  papers,  bills,  and  other  imple 
ments  of  gain,  let  me  lift  up  my  drowsy  head  awhile  to  con 
verse  with  dear  Julia.  And  first,  as  I  know  she  has  a  fervent 
wish  to  see  me  a  quill-driver,  I  must  tell  her  that  I  begin,  as 
people  are  wont  to  do,  to  look  upon  my  future  profession 
with  great  partiality.  I  no  longer  see  it  in  so  disadvan 
tageous  a  light.  Instead  of  figuring  a  merchant  as  a  middle- 
aged  man,  with  a  bob-wig,  a  rough  beard,  in  snuff-colored 
clothes,  grasping  a  guinea  in  his  red  hand,  I  conceive  a  come 
ly  young  man,  with  a  tolerable  pig-tail,  wielding  a  pen  with 
all  the  noble  fierceness  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  brandish 
ing  a  truncheon  upon  a  sign-post,  surrounded  with  types 
and  emblems,  and  canopied  with  cornucopias  that  disem 
bogue  their  stores  upon  his  head  ;  Mercuries  reclined  upon 
bales  of  goods  ;  Genii  playing  with  pens,  ink,  and  paper ; 
while  in  perspective,  his  gorgeous  vessels,  "  launched  on  the 
bosom  of  the  silver  Thames,"  are  wafting  to  distant  lands 
the  produce  of  this  commercial  nation.  Thus  all  the  mer 
cantile  glories  crowd  on  my  fancy,  emblazoned  in  the  most 
refulgent  coloring  of  an  ardent  imagination.  Borne  on  her 
soaring  pinions,  I  wing  my  flight  to  the  time  when  Heaven 
shall  have  crowned  my  labors  with  success  and  opulence.  I 
see  sumptuous  palaces  rising  to  receive  me.  I  see  orphans, 
and  widows,  and  painters,  and  fiddlers,  and  poets,  and  build 
ers,  protected  and  encouraged ;  and  when  the  fabric  is  pretty 
nearly  finished  by  my  shattered  pericranium,  I  cast  my  eyes 
around  and  find  John  Andre  by  a  small  coal-fire,  in  a  gloomy 
compting-house  in  Warnford  Court,  nothing  so  little  as  what 
he  has  been  making  himself,  and  in  all  probability  never  to 


I58  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

be  much  more  than  he  is  at  present.  But  oh,  my  dear  Ho- 
nora  !  it  is  for  thy  sake  only  I  wish  for  wealth.  You  say  she 
was  somewhat  better  at  the  time  you  wrote  last.  I'  must 
flatter  myself  that  she  will  soon  be  without  any  remain? 
of  this  threatening  disease. 

It  is  seven  o'clock.  You  and  Honora,  with  two  or  three 
more  select  friends,  are  now  probably  encircling  your  dress 
ing-room  fireplace.  What  would  I  not  give  to  enlarge  that 
circle  !  The  idea  of  a  clean  hearth,  and  a  snug  circle  round 
it,  formed  by  a  few  sincere  friends,  transports  me.  You  seem 
combined  together  against  the  inclemency  of  the  weather, 
the  hurry,  bustle,  ceremony,  censoriousness,  and  envy  of  the 
world.  The  purity,  the  warmth,  the  kindly  influence  of  fire, 
to  all  for  whom  it  is  kindled,  is  a  good  emblem  of  the  friend 
ship  of  such  amiable  minds  as  Julia's  and  her  Honora's. 
Since  I  can  not  be  there  in  reality,  pray  imagine  me  with 
you  ;  admit  me  to  your  conversaziones  ;  think  how  1  wish  for 
the  blessing  of  joining  them  !— and  be  persuaded  that  I  take 
part  in  all  your  pleasures,  in  the  dear  hope  that  e'er  it  be 
very  long  your  blazing  hearth  will  burn  again  for  me.  Pray 
keep  me  a  place  ;  let  the  poker,  tongs,  or  shovel,  represent 
me  ;  but  you  have  Dutch  tiles,  which  are  infinitely  better ; 
so  let  Moses,  or  Aaron,  or  Balaam's  ass,  be  my  represent 
ative. 

But  time  calls  me  to  Clapton.  I  quit  you  abruptly  till 
to-morrow,  when,  if  I  do  not  tear  the  nonsense  I  have  been 
writing,  I  may  perhaps  increase  its  quantity.  Signora  Cyn 
thia  is  in  clouded  majesty.  Silvered  with  her  beams,  I  am 
about  to  jog  to  Clapton  upon  my  own  stumps  ;  musing  as  I 
homeward  plod  my  way— ah  !  need  I  name  the  subject  of 
my  contemplations  ? 


LETTERS.  1 59 

Thursday, 

I  had  a  sweet  walk  home  last  night,  and  found  the  Clap- 
tomans,  with  their  fair  guest,  a  Miss  Mourgue,  very  well. 
My  sisters  send  their  amities,  and  will  write  in  a  few  days. 

This  morning  I  returned  to  town.  It  has  been  the  finest 
day  imaginable.  A  solemn  mildness  was  diffused  throughout 
the  blue  horizon  ;  its  light  was  clear  and  distinct  rather  than 
dazzling.  The  serene  beams  of  the  autumnal  sun,  gilded 
hills,  variegated  woods,  glittering  spires,  ruminating  herds, 
bounding  flocks,  all  combined  to  enchant  the  eyes,  expand 

the  heart,  and 

"  Chace  all  sorrow  but  despair." 

In  the  midst  of  such  a  scene  no  lesser  grief  can  prevent  our 
sympathy  with  Nature.  A  calmness,  a  benevolent  dispo 
sition  seizes  us  with  sweet,  insinuating  power.  The  very 
brute  creation  seems  sensible  of  these  beauties  ;  there  is  a 
species  of  mild  cheerfulness  in  the  face  of  a  lamb  which  I 
have  but  indifferently  expressed  in  a  corner  of  my  paper, 
and  a  demure,  contented  look  in  an  ox,  which,  in  the  fear  of 
expressing  still  worse,  I  leave  unattempted. 

Business  calls  me  away.  I  must  dispatch  my  letter.  Yet 
what  does  it  contain  ? — no  matter.  You  like  anything  better 
than  news.  Indeed,  you  never  told  me  so ;  but  I  have  an 
intuitive  knowledge  upon  the  subject,  from  the  sympathy 
which  I  have  constantly  perceived  in  the  taste  of  Julia  and 
cher  Jean.  What  is  it  to  you  or  me — 

If  here  in  the  city  we  have  nothing  but  riot, 
If  the  Spital-field  weavers  can't  be  kept  quiet, 
If  the  weather  is  fine,  or  the  streets  should  be  dirty, 
Or  if  Mr.  Dick  Wilson  died  aged  of  thirty  ? 

But  if  I  was  to  hearken  to  the  versifying  grumbling  I  feel 
within  me,  I  should  fill  my  paper  and  not  have  room  left  to 


160  THE   TWO  SPIES. 

entreat  that  you  would  plead  my  cause  to  Honora  more  elo 
quently  than  the  enclosed  letter  has  the  power  of  doing. 
Apropos  of  verses,  you  desire  me  to  recollect  my  random 
description  of  the  engaging  appearance  of  the  charming 
Mrs.  -  — .  Here  it  is,  at  your  service  : 

Then  rustling  and  bustling  the  lady  comes  down, 
With  a  flaming  red  face,  and  a  broad  yellow  gown, 
And  a  hobbling  out-of-breath  gait,  and  a  frown. 

This  little  French  cousin  of  ours,  Delarise,  was  my  sister 
Mary's  playfellow  at  Paris.  His  sprightliness  engages  my 
sisters  extremely.  Doubtless  they  talk  much  of  him  to  you 
in  their  letters.  How  sorry  I  am  to  bid  you  adieu  !  Oh,  let 
me  not  be  forgot  by  the  friends  most  dear  to  you  at  Lich 
field  !  Lichfield !  Ah!  of  what  magic  letters  is  that  little 
word  composed  !  How  graceful  it  looks  when  it  is  written  ! 
Let  nobody  talk  to  me  of  its  original  meaning,  *"  The  field 
of  blood  !  "  Oh,  no  such  thing  !  It  is  the  field  of  joy  ! 
"  The  beautiful  city  that  lifts  her  fair  head  in  the  valley  and 
says,  I  am,  and  there  is  none  beside  me  !  "  Who  says  she  is 
vain  ?  Julia  will  not  say  so,  nor  yet  Honora,  and  least  of  all 
their  devoted  J.  ANDRE. 


LETTER    III. 

CLAPTON,  November  /,  7769. 

MY  ears  still  ring  with  the  sounds  of  "  O  Jack  !  O  Jack  ! 
How  do  the  dear  Lichfieldians  ?    What  do  they  say  ?    What 


*  Field  of  blood. — Here  is  a  small  mistake.  Lichfield  is  not  the  field  of  blood, 
but  "the  field  of  dead  bodies,"  alluding  to  the  battle  fought  between  the  Romans 
and  the  British  Christians  in  the  Diocletian  persecution,  when  the  latter  were  mas 
sacred.  Three  slain  kings,  with  their  burying-place,  now  Barrowcop  Hill,  and  the 
cathedral  in  miniature,  form  the  city  arms.  Lich  is  still  a  word  in  use.  The 
churchyard  gates,  through  which  funerals  pass,  are  often  called  Lich-gates,  vul 
garly  Light-gates. 


LETTERS.  l6l 

are  they  about  ?  What  did  you  do  while  you  were  with 
them  ?  "  Have  patience,  said  I,  good  people  !  and  began  my 
story,  which  they  devoured  with  as  much  joyful  avidity  as 
Adam  did  Gabriel's  tidings  of  heaven.  My  mother  and  sis 
ters  are  all  very  well,  and  delighted  with  their  little  French 
man,  who  is  a  very  agreeable  lad.  Surely  you  applaud  the 
fortitude  with  which  I  left  you  !  Did  I  not  come  off  with 
flying  colors  ?  It  was  a  great  effort,  for,  alas  !  this  recreant 
heart  did  not  second  the  smiling  courage  of  the  countenance  ;. 
nor  is  it  yet  as  it  ought  to  be,  from  the  hopes  that  it  may 
reasonably  entertain  of  seeing  you  all  again  e'er  the  winter's 
dreary  hours  are  past.  Julia,  my  dear  Julia,  gild  them  with 
tidings  of  our  beloved  Honora  !  Oh,  that  you  may  be  able 
to  tell  me  that  she  regains  her  health,  and  her  charming 
vivacity  !  Your  sympathizing  heart  partakes  all  the  joys 
and  pains  of  your  friends.  Never  can  I  forget  its  kind 
offices,  which  were  of  such  moment  to  my  peace  !  Mhie  is 
formed  for  friendship,  and  I  am  blessed  in  being  able  to  place 
so  well  the  purest  passion  of  an  ingenuous  mind  !  How  am 
I  honored  in  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Seward's  attachment  to  me  ! 
Charming  were  the  anticipations  which  beguiled  the  long 
tracts  of  hill,  and  dale,  and  plain  that  divide  London  from 
Lichfield  !  With  what  delight  my  eager  eyes  drank  their 
first  view  of  the  dear  spires  !  What  rapture  did  I  not  feel 
on  entering  your  gates  !  in  flying  up  the  hall  steps  !  in  rush 
ing  into  the  dining-room  !  in  meeting  the  gladdened  eyes  of 
dear  Julia  and  her  enchanting  friend  !  That  instant  con 
vinced  me  of  the  truth  of  Rousseau's  observation,  that  "there 
are  moments  worth  ages."  Shall  not  those  moments  return  ? 
Ah,  Julia  !  the  cold  hand  of  absence  is  heavy  upon  the  heart 
of  your  poor  cher  Jean.  He  is  forced  to  hammer  into  it  per 
petually  every  consoling  argument  that  the  magic  wand  of 


162  THE    TWO   SPIES. 

hope  can  conjure  up,  viz.,  that  every  moment  of  industrious 
absence  advances  his  journey,  you  know  whither.  I  may 
sometimes  make  excursions  to  Lichfield,  and  bask  in  the 
light  of  my  Honora's  eyes  !  Sustain  me,  Hope  ! — nothing  on 
my  part  shall  be  wanting  which  may  induce  thee  to  fulfill 
thy  blossoming  promises. 

The  happy  social  circle — Julia,  Honora,  Miss  S n,  Miss 

B n,  her  brother,  Mr.  S e,  Mr.   R n,  etc.,  etc.— 

are  now,  perhaps,  enlivening  your  dressing-room,  the  dear 
blue  region,  as  Honora  calls  it,  with  the  sensible  observation, 
the  tasteful  criticism,  or  the  elegant  song ;  dreading  the  iron- 
tongue  of  the  nine-o'clock  bell,  which  disperses  the  beings 
whom  friendship  and  kindred  virtues  had  drawn  together. 
My  imagination  attaches  itself  to  all,  even  the  inanimate  ob 
jects  which  surround  Honora  and  her  Julia  ;  that  have  be 
held  their  graces  and  virtues  expand  and  ripen— my  dear 
Honora's — from  their  infant  bud. 

The  sleepy  Claptonian  train  are  gone  to  bed,  somewhat 
wearied  with  their  excursion  to  Enfield,  whither  they  have 
this  day  carried  their  favorite  little  Frenchman,  so  great  a 
favorite  ;  the  parting  was  quite  tragical.  I  walked  hither 
from  town,  as  usual,  to-night ;  no  hour  of  the  twenty-four  is 
so  precious  to  me  as  that  devoted  to  this  solitary  walk.  O 
my  friend  !  I  am  far  from  possessing  the  patient  frame  of 
mind  which  I  so  continually  invoke  !  Why  is  Lichfield  an 
hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  me  ?  There  is  no  moderation 
in  the  distance  !  Fifty  or  sixty  miles  had  been  a  great  deal 
too  much,  but  then  there  would  have  been  less  opposition 
from  authority  to  my  frequent  visits.  I  conjure  you,  supply 
the  want  of  these  blessings  by  frequent  letters.  I  must  not, 
will  not  ask  them  of  Honora,  since  the  use  of  the  pen  is  for- 
bid  to  her  declining  health  ;  I  will  content  myself,  as  usual 


LETTERS.  163 

with  a  postscript  from  her  in  your  epistle.  My  sisters  are 
charmed  with  the  packet  which  arrived  yesterday,  and 
which  they  will  answer  soon. 

As  yet  I  have  said  nothing  of  our  journey.  We  met  an 
entertaining  Irish  gentleman  at  Dunchurch,  and,  being  fel 
low-sufferers  in  cold  and  hunger,  joined  interests,  ordered 
four  horses,  and  stuffed  three  in  a  chaise.  It  is  not  to  you 
— I  need  not  apologize  for  talking  in  rapture  of  an  higgler 
whom  we  met  on  our  road.  His  cart  had  passed  us,  and 
was  at  a  considerable  distance,  when,  looking  back,  he  per 
ceived  that  our  chaise  had  stopped,  and  that  the  driver 
seemed  mending  something.  He  ran  up  to  him,  and  with 
a  face  full  of  honest  anxiety,  pity,  good-nature,  and  every 
sweet  affection  under  heaven,  asked  him  if  we  wanted  any 
thing  ;  that  he  had  plenty  of  nails,  ropes,  etc.,  in  his  cart. 
That  wretch  of  a  postillion  made  no  other  reply  than  "  We 
want  nothing,  master."  From  the  same  impulse  the  good 
Irishman,  Mr.  Till,  and  myself,  thrust  our  heads  instantly 
out  of  the  chaise,  and  tried  to  recompense  to  the  honest 
creature  by  forcing  upon  him  a  little  pecuniary  tribute. 
My  benevolence  will  be  the  warmer,  while  I  live,  for  the 
treasured  remembrance  of  this  higgler's  countenance. 

I  know  you  interest  yourself  in  my  destiny.  I  have  now 
completely  subdued  my  aversion  to  the  profession  of  a  mer 
chant,  and  hope  in  time  to  acquire  an  inclination  for  it ;  yet 
God  forbid  I  should  ever  love  what  I  am  to  make  the  object 
of  my  attention  ! — that  vile  trash,  which  I  care  not  for,  but 
only  as  it  may  be  the  future  means  of  procuring  the  blessing 
of  my  soul.  Thus  all  my  mercantile  calculations  go  to  the 
tune  of  dear  Honor  a.  When  an  impertinent  consciousness 
whispers  in  my  ear  that  I  am  not  of  the  right  stuff  for  a 
merchant,  I  draw  my  Honora's  picture  from  my  bosom,  and 

12 


THE   TWO  SPIES. 

the  sight  of  that  dear  talisman  so  inspirits  my  industry  that 
no  toil  appears  oppressive. 

The  poetic  talk  you  set  me  in  is  a  sad  method.  My  head 
and  heart  are  too  full  of  other  matters  to  be  engrossed  by  a 
draggle-tailed  wench  of  the  Heliconian  puddle.  I  am  going 
to  try  my  interest  in  Parliament.  How  you  stare  ! — it  is  to 
procure  a  frank.  Be  so  good  as  to  give  the  enclosed  to  Ho- 
nora  ;  it  will  speak  to  her.  And  do  you  say  everything  that 
is  kind  for  me  to  every  other  distinguished  friend  of  the 
dressing-room  circle  ;  encourage  them  in  their  obliging  de 
sire  of  scribbling  in  your  letters,  but  don't  let  them  take 
Honora's  corner  of  the  sheet. 

Adieu  !  May  you  all  possess  that  cheerfulness  denied  to 
your  cher  Jean.  I  fear  it  hurts  my  mother  to  see  my  musing 
moods,  but  I  can  neither  help  nor  overcome  them.  The 
near  hopes  of  another  excursion  to  Lichfield  could  alone 
disperse  every  gloomy  vapor  of  my  imagination.  Again, 
and  yet  again,  adieu  !  ANDRE. 


INDEX 


Adams,  Alice,  Hale's  affianced,  21  (note). 

Alexander,  William,  Lord  Stirling,  71 
(note}. 

American  army  on  Manhattan  Island, 
condition  of,  n  ;  on  Harlem  Heights 
— perils  menacing  the,  12. 

American    cause,   gloomy  prospects  for  i 
the,  79. 

Anderson,  the  fictitious  name  of  Major 
Andre,  65. 

Andre,  John,    birth,  parentage,    educa 
tion,  and  family  of,   37  ;  at  Lichfield  . 
with  Anna  Seward,  38  ;  personal  ap-  | 
pearance   of  —  betrothed    to    Honora  | 
Sneyd — paints  a  miniature  portrait  of  j 
her — correspondence    of,    with   Anna 
Seward,   40,   41  ;    enters    the    British 
army — alleged  presages  of  his  death, 
42>  43  ;  g°es  to  America — his  obser 
vations  there,  43,  44  ;  made  a  prisoner, 
exchanged,  and  promoted  by  General 
Howe,  44,  45  ;   social  position  of,  in 
Philadelphia,  45,  46  ;  writes  "  Yankee 
Doodle's    Expedition   to    Rhode    Isl 
and  " — aide-de-camp  to  General  Clin-  ! 
ton,   61  ;    genius   of,  displayed — goes  j 
with  Clinton   up  the   Hudson  River, 
62  ;   letters  of,  to  Mrs.  Benedict  Ar-  j 
nold,  63  ;    secret   correspondence  of,  i 
with   General   Arnold,   65  ;    a  spy  at  I 
Charleston — made  adjutant-general  of 


the  British  forces  in  America,  6*» ; 
writes  "  The  Cow-Chase."  68  ;  at  a 
dinner-party  given  by  Colonel  Will 
iams — sadness  of,  80  ;  sings  a  cam 
paign  song — important  mission  of,  81  ; 
meets  Arnold  near  Haverstraw — goes 
to  Smith's  house — bargain  with  Ar 
nold,  83,  84  ;  attempts  to  return  to 
New  York  through  the  American 
lines — disguise  of,  84  ;  conceals  papers 
received  from  Arnold  in  his  boots — 
journey  of,  toward  New  York,  85  ; 
arrest  of,  86  ;  suspected  of  being  a 
spy,  87,  88  ;  tries  to  bribe  his  captors 
— taken  to  an  American  post,  88  ; 
confession  of,  91  ;  letter  of,  to  Wash 
ington,  91-93  ;  sent  to  West  Point, 
97  ;  sent  to  Tappaan  in  charge  of  Ma 
jor  Tallmadge,  97,  98  ;  sympathy  for, 

99,  105,    106  ;   effect  of  the   news  of 
capture  of,  99  ;  trial  and  sentence  of, 

100,  101  ;  exertions  to  save  the  life  of, 
101  ;  letter  of,  to  Washington,  en  the 
mode  of  his  death,  102  ;  letters  of,  to 
friends — drawings  of,  103  (note)  ;  exe 
cution  of,  103-105  ;  monument  in  hon 
or  of,  in  Westminster  Abbey,  106  ;  re 
mains  of,  removed  to  the  abbey,  106 
(note)  ;  place  of  execution  of,  marked 
by  memorial-stones,  108,  109. 

Andre  Brook,  the,  117. 
Arnold,  Benedict,  life  of,  in  Philadelphia 
— charges  against,  63  ;  urges  an  inves- 


1 66 


THE    TWO   SPIES. 


tigation,  64  ;  treasonable  correspond 
ence  of,  64,  65  ;  secret  correspondence 
of,  with  Major  Andre — disguised  hand 
writing  of,  65  ;  in  command  at  West 
Point,  78  ;  tries  to  meet  Andre  in  dis 
guise,  79  ;  plans  of,  for  consummating 
treason,  83,  84  ;  meets  Andre  near 
Haverstraw,  83  ;  takes  Andre  to 
Smith's  house  —  finishes  his  bargain 
to  betray  his  country — gives  Andre 
important  papers,  84  ;  receives  notice 
of  the  arrest  of  Andre,  93  ;  hurried  in 
terview  with  his  wife — escapes  to  the 
Vulture — patriotism  of  his  barge  crew, 
94  ;  attempts  to  arrest,  96  ;  impudent 
letter  of,  to  Washington,  101  (note}. 

Arnold,  Mrs.,  distress  of,  94  ;  Washing 
ton's  kindness  to,  c6. 

Austin,    Henry,    designer   of  the    Hale 
Monument  at  Coventry,  27. 

B 

Babcock,  J.  S.,  poetic  tribute  of,  to  the 

memory  of  Nathan  Hale,  29. 
Boothby,   Sir  Richard,  a  literary  friend 

of  Anna  Seward,  38. 
Boudinot,    Elias,   concerning  the  arrest 

and  execution  of  Andre,  99. 
British  army  near  New  York,  condition 

of  the,  ii. 
Buchanan,  James,  assists  in  the  removal 

of  Andre's  remains  to  England,  108. 


Caldwell,  Rev.  James,  77  (note\ 
Captors  of  Andre,  85  ;  rewarded,  89. 
Carleton,  Governor  of  Canada,  43. 
Cathcart,    Captain,  and   Miss  Eliot,   51 

(note], 
"  Cedars,  The,"  and  the  Widow  Chiches- 

ter,  16. 
Chichester,  the  Widow,  and  the  Tories, 

16. 
Clinton,  Sir  Henry,  43  5  succeeds  Howe, 


46  ;  in  command  of  the  British  army — 
flight  of,  across  New  Jersey — fights  at 
Monmouth  Court-House,  60  ;  head 
quarters  of,  at  New  York,  61,  62,  83  ; 
letter  of,  to  Washington — Andre's  let 
ter  to,  101. 

Court  of  inquiry  in  the  case  of  Andre, 
100. 

"Cow-Chase,  The,"  a  satire  by  Major 
Andre,  67-78. 

Cunningham,  William,  character  of,  24 
(note),  25. 

D 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  38. 

De  Lancey,  Oliver,  assists  Andre  in  art 
work — marries  Miss  Franks  56  (note). 

Demorest,  Rev.  John,  assists  at  the  dis- 
interment  of  the  remains  of  Major 
Andre — silver  cup  sent  to,  by  Andre's 
sisters,  108. 

Depew,  Chauncey  M.,  oration  by,  at 
Tarrytown,  121. 

D'Estaing,  with  French  fleet,  goes  to 
Rhode  Island,  61. 

Dobb's  Ferry,  84  ;  conference  at,  101. 

Dream,  a  singular,  concerning  Andre,  42. 


Edgeworth,     Richard     Lovell,    marries 

Honora  Sneyd,  38,  41. 
Eliot,  Miss,  and  Captain  Cathcart,  51. 


Field,  Cyrus  W.,  erects  a  memorial-stone 
at  the  place  of  Andre's  execution,  109- 
115  ;  proposes  to  erect  a  monument  in 
memory  of  Nathan  Hale  at  his  own 
expense,  113,  114;  letter  of'  ou  the 
subject,  to  the  New  York  Historical 
Society,  114  ;  contribution  of,  to  the 
Hale  monument  at  Coventry,  114  5 
generous  designs  of,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Rockland  County  Historical  and 
Forestry  Society,  118. 


INDEX. 


I67 


Finch,   Francis   M.,   poem   on    Nathan 
Hale  by,  29. 

Fort  Hale,  28, 

G 

Gibbs,  George,  epitaph  for  Hale's  tomb, 
written  by,  84. 

Grey,  General,  marauding  expedition  of, 
to  New  Bedford,  61. 

Greene,  General  Nathanael,  in  command  i 
at  Tappaan,  proclaims  Arnold's  trea-  | 
son,  980 

"  Gustavus,"  the  fictitious  name  of  Ar 
nold,  61. 

H 

Hale  and  Andre,  character  and  motives  ! 
of,  iv. 

Hale,  Edward  Everett,  4. 

Hale,  Enoch,  4. 

Hale,  Nathan,  childhood  and  youth  of — 
personal  appearance  and  vigor  of — en 
ters  Yale  College,  4  ;  Dr.  E.  Munson's  | 
recollections  of,  5  ;   letter  of,  to  Dr. 
Munson,  6  (note}  ;  a  school-teacher  at  j 
East  Haddam  and  New  London,  7  ;  i 
patriotism  of,  aroused — speech  of,  8  ;  j 
a  volunteer  soldier  at  the  siege  of  Bos-  ! 
ton  —  patriotism  displayed  —  commis-  ! 
sioned  captain — daring  feat  of,  at  New  j 
York,  9  ;  generosity  of — in  the  battle  | 
of  Long  Island  and  the  retreat — ill-  j 
ness  of,  10  ;  volunteers  for  the  secret  ' 
service,  and  resists  the  dissuasions  of 
his  friends — ideas  of,  concerning  secret 
service,    14,  15  ;   receives  instructions 
from   Washington — departure   of,    on 
secret  service,  15  ;  goes  to  Long  Island 
and  enters  the  British  camps  in  dis 
guise — methods  of,  as  a  spy,  16  ;  ar 
rest  of,  17  ;  character  of,  discovered, 
1 8  ;  at  General  Howe's  headquarters 
at  the  Beekman  mansion — confined  in 
a  green-house,  19  ;  interview  of,  with 
General  Howe,  20  ;  treatment  of,  by 


Cunningham,  21,  22  ;  last  words  of, 
23  ;  place  of  execution  of,  23  (note)  ; 
execution  of — sympathy  for — neglect 
of  memory  of,  24  ;  memorials  of,  25  ; 
monument  erected  in  memory  of,  27, 
28  ;  poem  written  concerning,  27-31  ; 
and  Andre  compared,  31  ;  proposed 
monument  in  memory  of,  at  New  York 
— statue  of,  contemplated,  33  ;  epitaph 
for  tomb  of,  34  ;  monument  to,  pro 
posed,  in,  113,  114. 

Hale,  Richard  and  Elizabeth,  parents  of 
Nathan  Hale,  3. 

Hayley,  Thomas,  an  English  poet,  38., 

Hamilton,  Alexander,  73,  93, 96, 100,  IO2, 

Harrison,  Richard,  73  (note). 

Hempstead,  Stephen,  15. 

Hillhouse,  James,  a  classmate  with 
Hale,  7. 

Howe,  General  William,  succeeded  by 
Sir  Henry  Clinton,  46  ;  fete  given  in 
honor  of,  46-59  ;  estimate  of  the  char 
acter  of,  59. 

Hull,  Lieutenant  William,  and  Nathan 
Hale,  14. 

Huntington,  Rev.  Dr.,  fits  Hale  for  col 
lege,  4. 

Husted,  General  James,  marshal  at  the 
dedication  of  the  monument  at  Tarry- 
town,  121. 

Husted,  Dr.  Nathaniel  C.,  author  of  a 
"Memorial  Souvenir,"  121. 

I 

Irvines,  the  two,  71  (note). 

J 
Jameson,  Lieutenaut-Colonel,  and  Major 

Andre,  90. 
Johnson,  Jeremiah,  concerning  the  place 

of  Hale's  execution,  23. 

K 

Knowlton,  Lieutenant-Colonel,  and  Na 
than  Hale,  13  ;  death  of,  16  (note). 


1 68 


THE   TWO  SPIES, 


L 

Lafayette  with  Washington  at  West 
Point,  93. 

Laurance,  John,  Judge  Advocate-Gen 
eral,  100. 

Lawrence,  William,  21  (note). 

Lee,  Charles,  and  Colonel  Hamilton,  73 
(note). 

Lee,  Henry  ("  Legion  Harry"),  67. 

Lee,  James,  marks  the  spot  where  Andre 
was  executed,  108,  no  ;  statue  of 
Washington  in  New  York,  108  (note). 

Lionian  Society  of  Yale  College,  29. 

Livingston,  Susannah,  77  (note). 

M 

Memorial-stone  near  Tappaan,  unveil 
ing  of  the,  113  ;  description  of,  and 
inscription  upon  the,  115  ;  what  the 
stone  commemorates,  116,  117  ;  at 
tempts  to  destroy  the,  117-119. 

Military  execution,  method  of,  23  (note). 

Mischianza,  the,  description  of,  by  Ma 
jor  Andre,  46-58  ;  criticism  of  the,  59  ; 
the,  deplored,  60. 

Monmouth,  battle  of,  60. 

Munson,  Dr.  Eneas,  relates  his  personal 
recollections  of  Nathan  Hale,  5. 

Monody  on  Major  Andr£,  135. 

Murray,  Robert,  Washington  at  house 
of,  12. 

N 

Neutral  ground,  the,  and  its  inhabit 
ants,  85. 

New  York  City,  great  conflagration  at,  20. 

O 

O'Donovan,  sculptor,  author  of  a  statue 
at  Tarrytown,  121. 


Paulding,  John,  a  captor  of  Andre,  85-89. 
Philadelphia,  British  army  in,  and  its  de 
moralization,  45  ;  flight  of  British  from 


— American  troops  and  Congress  en 
ter,  60. 

R 

Raymond,  Henry  J.,  oration  of,  at  Tar 
rytown,  31-33, 

Reed,  General  Joseph,  and  General  Ar 
nold,  63. 

Ripley,  Eleazar,  21  (note). 

Robertson,  General,  and  General  Greene 
at  Dobb's  Ferry — bears  a  letter  from 
Arnold  to  Washington,  101. 

Robinson,  Beverly,  letter  of,  64  ;  and 
Andre  and  Arnold,  79  ;  with  Andre  on 
the  Vulture i  81  ;  letter  of,  to  Wash 
ington,  95. 

S 

Samson,  Ezra,  7. 

Seward,  Anna,  literary  friends  of,  38  ; 
biographical  sketch  of,  125  ;  Major 
Andre's  letters  to,  152. 

Seward,  Rev.  Thomas,  father  of  Anna 
Seward,  38. 

Smith,  J.  H.,  and  Arnold  and  Andre, 
82-84. 

Sneyd,  Honora,  betrothed  to  Andre,  40  ; 
marries  Richard  Lovell  Edgeworth, 
and  death  of,  41. 

Sparks,  Dr.,  on  Andre",  64. 

Spies,  character  of,  denned,  iii. 

Sprague,  Rev.  W.  B.,  68. 

Stanley,  Rev.  Arthur  Penrhyn,  Dean  of 
Westminster,  visits  the  place  of  An 
dre's  execution,  no;  writes  an  in 
scription  for  a  memorial-stone  placed 
on  the  spot — letter  to  Mr.  Whittemore 
concerning  the  inscription,  112  ;  in 
scription  by,  115. 

Stuart's  biography  of  Hale,  28. 


Tallmadge,  Benjamin,  and  Nathan  Hale, 
at  college,  7  ;  pronounces  Andr6  a 
spy,  90  ;  custodian  of  and  frank  con 
versation  with  Andre",  98. 


INDEX. 


169 


Tappaan,  allusion  to,  in  "  The  Cow- 
Chase,"  69  ;  Andre  taken  to,  99  ; 
Andre  executed  near,  103  ;  memorial- 
stone  near,  erected  by  Mr.  Field,  113  ; 
indignation  meeting  at,  119. 

Tarrytown,  monument  at,  119-121. 

Thacher,  Dr.,  on  Andre's  execution,  105, 
1 06. 

Tilden,  Samuel  J.,  presides  at  the  dedi 
cation  of  a  monument  at  Tarrytown, 

121. 

U 

Union  Grammar-School  at  New  London 
taught  by  Hale,  7. 

Van  Wart,  Isaac,  a  captor  of  Andre,  85- 

87. 
Vulture,  the,  sloop-of-war,  bears  Andre" 

up  the  Hudson  River,  81. 

W 

Washington  asks  and  receives  instruc 
tions  from  Congress,  n,  12  ;  at  Mur 
ray's  house,  12  ;  instructions  of,  for 
obtaining  information,  12  ;  calls  a 
council  of  war — desires  a  trustworthy 
man  for  secret  service,  13  ;  in  con 
ference  with  French  officers,  79  ;  at 
West  Point  and  Arnold's  quarters — 
discovers  Arnold's  treason — kindness 
to  Mrs.  Arnold,  96,  97. 


Watson,  J.  F.,  and  relics  of  the  Mis- 
chianza,  48  (note). 

Wayne,  General  Anthony,  expedition 
of,  67. 

Webb,  Colonel  Charles,  9. 

West  Point,  surrender  of,  contemplated,, 
67  ;  and  arranged  for,  79,  80. 

Wharton,  Thomas,  house  of,  the  scene 
of  the  Mischianza,  46. 

Whittemore,  Henry,  and  the  Field  me 
morial-stone  at  Tappaan,  111-113. 

Willard,  Solomon,  architect  of  the  Bun 
ker  Hill  Monument,  27. 

Williams,  David,  a  captor  of  Andre,  85. 

Williams,  Colonel,  gives  a  dinner-party 
to  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  80. 

Windt,  John  de,  99  (note). 

Wood,  E.  S.,  sculptor,  34  (note}. 

Wright,  Ansel,  Hale's  trusty  servant,  15. 


"  Yankee  Doodle's  Expedition  to  Rhode 

Island,"  by  Andre,  61. 
Yerks,  John,  a  captor  of  Andre",  85. 
York,  Duke  of,  causes   the  remains   of 

Andre  to  be  removed  to  England,  106 

(note)  ;   sends  a  snuff-box  to  Rev.  J. 

Demorest,  108. 

MONODY  ON  MAJOR  ANDRE,  135. 
ANDRE'S  LETTERS  TO   Miss  SEWARD, 

152. 


THE     END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT. 


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